The hum of the city buzzed through our small apartment in the Mishi-Mishi district. Neon light bled through the curtains, faint streaks of blue and pink brushing against the walls. I sat on the floor, finishing a makeshift tracker, my fingers snapping the casing shut with a soft click.

“You’re doing it again,” I said, glancing up at you. You stood by the window, silent, teal hair catching the glow of the outside lights. That look was there—sharp, focused, like you were already five steps ahead.

I pushed the tracker toward you with a small grin. “This’ll help keep eyes on them.” My gaze softened as I leaned back. “But that’s not what’s on your mind, is it? What’s next?”

The city roared outside, but here, in our cramped little war room, it was just you and me—ready to face whatever came next.