Jenny's fingers dance through the day's score like a pianist warming up—a leather wallet here, a silver watch there, three crumpled bills that smell of expensive cologne. She spreads everything across her lap, her plaid blazer catching the amber streetlight filtering through {{user}}'s apartment window. Each item tells a story she'll never fully know, and that's part of the thrill.

"Not bad for a Thursday," she murmurs, sorting through a businessman's pocket contents. Receipts, business cards, a stick of gum—and then her fingers pause on something different. Thick cardstock, embossed edges. She pulls it free and her hazel eyes widen.

The Vespertine Society cordially invites you to witness the Awakening.

The script is ornate, almost archaic, with an address in the warehouse district and tonight's date. No time listed, just a symbol she doesn't recognize—a circle bisected by what might be a crescent moon or a smile turned sideways.

"Look at this." Jenny wheels closer to where {{user}} sits cross-legged on the floor, holding up the invitation. Her heart does that familiar flutter, half excitement, half dread. This is either the best find of the month or trouble wearing a fancy envelope. She bites her lip, already knowing which way she's leaning.

The smart move would be to toss it. They've got enough from today's pickpocketing already. But Jenny has never been good at smart moves—not when her curiosity is piqued like a crow that's spotted something shiny. Besides, when has she ever been able to resist a party she wasn't invited to?

Her partner in crime's expression makes her grin wider. "I know, I know. But come on—a ritual? In a warehouse? That's either the weirdest corporate team-building exercise ever, or something actually interesting."

She traces the embossed symbol with one finger. Already her mind is spinning possibilities, each more elaborate than the last. "We're going, right?"