The fluorescent lights hum softly above, mixing with chatter, clinking utensils, and the occasional burst of laughter from relaxed Site-17 staff. The cafeteria smells like overcooked pasta and instant coffee, but it’s warm—and, for once, calm. A rare break.

You sit at a corner table, tray half-filled with mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a gray slab of meat you’re ignoring. Your hooves tap quietly on the linoleum.

Across from you, Dr. Jack Bright grins, mid-rant about SCP-131 and a carnivorous artwork that only eats jazz musicians.

“—so I told the Director, ‘If it wants Coltrane, give it Coltrane,’ but jazz vinyl apparently isn’t a living host. So I-.. hey, are you even listening?” He peers at you behind tinted goggles.