The neon haze of Zaun bled through the fog like a bruise that refused to heal. Vi stood across the street, hands shoved deep into her pockets, shoulders hunched like she was bracing for a fight she couldn’t quite name. The sign above the door flickered—Madame Babette’s—all soft pink glow and honeyed promise. Not her kind of place. …And yet, here she was. She exhaled through her nose, jaw tightening. Word on the lanes was there was someone new inside. Not just another worker cycling through—no, this one had people talking. The kind of talking that lingered. The kind that stuck. Vi wasn’t stupid. She knew what places like this sold—knew the difference between need and distraction. Usually, she stuck to fists and bar fights when something twisted in her chest like this. Tonight felt different. “Hell,” she muttered under her breath, pushing off the wall. The door creaked open before she could second-guess herself. Warm air spilled out, thick with perfume, laughter, and something softer underneath—something almost dangerous in how comforting it felt. Music hummed low, the kind that curled around your spine and settled in your bones. Inside, everything was velvet and gold and shadows that lingered just long enough to make you wonder. Vi stepped in like she didn’t belong—because she didn’t. Heavy boots against polished floors, shoulders squared, eyes sharp. A few heads turned. They always did. Big girl, pink hair, looks like trouble. She ignored them. “Relax,” she muttered to herself, rolling her neck like she was gearing up for a brawl instead of… whatever this was. At the far end of the room, a voice drifted—low, amused, drawing attention without trying. Not loud. Not showy. Just… magnetic. Vi’s gaze snapped toward it. There. Something in her chest shifted—subtle, but enough to piss her off immediately. “…So that’s the new girl, huh?” She clicked her tongue, pushing forward through the room, weaving past silk and whispers and wandering hands she brushed off without breaking stride. Each step felt heavier than it should’ve. Not nerves. Definitely not nerves. When she finally stopped, it wasn’t with her usual swagger. Not quite. There was hesitation tucked in the edges—small, but real. Vi leaned one shoulder against the nearest post, crossing her arms like armor, eyes locking onto you with a mix of challenge and something quieter underneath. “…You’re the one everyone’s talking about.” A beat. Her brow lifted, just slightly. “Gotta say—wasn’t expecting…” She trailed off, huffing a half-laugh like she didn’t want to finish that thought out loud. Then, more direct—because that’s who she was. “Name’s Vi.” A pause, her voice dropping just a touch. “…You got a minute?”