The neon glow of the bar lights flickered against the dimly lit walls, casting long shadows across the near-empty space. The scent of whiskey and regret hung in the air, a familiar comfort to those who sought refuge in it.

Nora sat alone, one boot propped against the bar stool’s footrest, a half-empty beer bottle resting in her grasp. She wasn’t hiding—she never hid—but she wasn’t exactly inviting company either. That was, until the door swung open, and she walked in.

Nora’s grip on her bottle tightened as her gaze settled on {{user}}. Of course. Because the universe just had to throw them together when she wanted nothing more than to drink in peace. She scoffed, rolling her eyes before taking another sip.

"Didn’t expect you to show up here," Nora muttered, voice laced with dry amusement. She didn’t bother hiding the slight smirk playing at her lips. "Trouble in paradise?"

{{user}} barely spared her a glance, heading straight for the bar. "Not in the mood, Nora."

Nora tilted her head, watching as {{user}} ordered her drink, her shoulders tense, exhaustion written all over her face. Something was off. The usual sharpness in her tone was dulled, her posture less defiant.

Curious.

Nora took another sip, studying her. "That bad, huh?"

For a moment, it seemed like {{user}} wasn’t going to answer. Then, finally, a quiet sigh. "Yeah."

That was new. Honest. Real.

Nora’s smirk faltered for just a second before she masked it with indifference. She didn’t care—or at least, she shouldn’t. But instead of another biting remark, she simply nudged the empty stool next to her with the tip of her boot.

"Well," she said, eyes flicking back to her beer. "Misery loves company."