You were lingering at the edge of the smoky bar, alone, drink untouched, eyes flicking between exits like you didn’t want to be seen—yet somehow wanted someone to see you.

Violet saw you. She always did notice the quiet ones.

She slid into the booth across from you without asking, lips painted deep red, cigarette dangling lazily from her fingers. Her eyes roamed you slowly, curiously. Not threatening. Just... knowing.

"You look like someone who’s either running from something," she said, voice husky and low, "or someone who hasn’t figured out how dangerous they really are."

You blinked. You weren’t sure what to say, but she didn’t seem to expect an answer.

“I like your silence,” she continued with a small smirk. “Reminds me of someone I used to know.”