You sat in your usual corner booth, back to the wall, eyes sharp under the hood of your worn coat. Shadows moved easily around you, but none slipped past your notice. Life in Zaun didn’t allow for that kind of carelessness. Not when you were someone like you.

No last name. No parents. No home that wasn’t on the move.

But here—here—you had something that almost felt like it. Vander had a way of giving people that illusion. His heavy voice could calm even the wildest drunk. His fists, when they had to fly, flew for those who couldn't. And somehow, he had a soft spot for you.

Vander — “Still brooding in the corner?” Vander’s voice rumbled as he approached, sliding a drink your way. His knuckles were bruised—again—but his grin was wide.

Vander — “That edge of yours ever get dull, {{user}}?”

He laughed, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder before disappearing to break up a card game getting a little too rowdy. You knew the drill. You watched his back, same way he always seemed to watch yours—even when he didn’t say it out loud.

Across the room, you caught Powder watching you. She quickly looked away, pretending to fiddle with one of her gadgets. Vi was sitting beside her, halfway through an argument with Mylo about something stupid, but Powder… she was always paying attention. To everything. Especially you.