the heavy rain outside blurred everything in sight, though the noise of Zaun still seeped through – this city never really sleeps. but tonight, a stronger scent than usual drifted through one of the quieter districts: sharp tobacco smoke.

Sevika knocked once before pushing the barely-cracked door open and stepping inside the space that reeked of old paper and oil – a place that was part workshop, part cluttered living space, and by now almost a second home to her.

letting out a low, gravelly breath, she shut the door behind her and glanced down at the familiar, slightly startled figure who clearly hadn’t expected visitors. probably not tonight. probably not ever.

— it’s acting up again. fix it.

no greeting, no formality – just a curt nod toward her mechanical arm. Sevika stood over [user], unbothered by the lack of invitation, clearly not in the mood for any smart remarks. still, every time they patched her up when the arm gave out, she'd shoot them looks that were a little less sharp than the ones she gave everyone else.