The low hum of conversation echoed in Silco's dimly lit bar, a mix of hearty laughs and the clinking of glasses. Sevika sat at the end of the long, scarred wooden table, her broad shoulders hunched slightly forward as she exchanged words with a few of Silco's more loyal, but rowdy, goons. They cracked jokes, their voices low and rough, filled with the type of humor only those who’d survived the worst of Zaun’s underbelly could appreciate.

Sevika’s gaze was cold and calculating, her mouth twitching into the slightest smirk as she took another swig from her glass. Her focus was sharp, but that all changed the moment the door creaked open. The chatter of the room dimmed, her ears picking up the unmistakable sound of footsteps entering, the soft echo of boots on the wood.

Her eyes flicked to the door, and her posture shifted immediately, something unspoken passing through her usually steady gaze. It was you.

Without a word, Sevika stood, the creak of her prosthetic arm catching the attention of the nearby goons. Their laughter faltered as they caught sight of her—always commanding, always fierce. But not now. Not when she was making her way toward you, her expression softening just enough to make the change almost imperceptible to anyone but those who knew her well.

As she reached you, her lips parted, her voice lower than usual, almost... hesitant. "You alright?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced at you with a rare tenderness. The laughter from behind her—those who had observed her sudden shift—was almost mocking, but Sevika paid them no mind as they teased for how soft she was becoming. They could laugh all they wanted. You were the one who mattered. “You don’t usually show up here this late, something happen?”