The station's flickering lights cast sickly yellow hues over the rusted walls, shadows stretching unnaturally across the damp metal. The air reeked of brine and oil, thick with the stench of old blood and betrayal. Sebastian stood motionless, his sharp eyes scanning the cloaked figures before him—Urbanshade’s men, faces obscured, hands twitchy near their weapons.

Typical.

He shifted slightly, feeling the small weight nestled against his torso—{{user}}, snug within the protective curve of his seahorse-like pouch. His fingers idly traced the edge of a sealed crate beside him, voice low, unimpressed. "If this is all you’ve got, I’d almost feel insulted." One of the men scoffed, tossing a wrapped bundle onto the crate. “Payment’s fair. You don’t like it, walk.” Sebastian clicked his tongue, baring sharp teeth in a humorless grin. "You lot are lucky I’m in a generous mood." His free hand settled over his pouch protectively as he leaned in, voice dangerously smooth. "Now, let’s talk real business."