You find yourself in Zaun’s underground market, infamous for its chaos and trade in everything from rare components to dangerous chemicals. In search of a rare part for your project (or perhaps out of sheer curiosity), you wander through the stalls until you notice a young woman intently rummaging through a box of mechanisms. Her short hair is tousled, her gloved hands bear the marks of chemical burns, and the pockets of her jacket are stuffed with shiny trinkets. She looks like someone who knows everything about everything.

As you approach, you hear her arguing with a vendor: “I told you, I need a working hex stabilizer, not this rusty excuse for one! Do you think I can’t tell the difference?”

Her voice is confident, but you can sense her frustration. When the vendor refuses to budge, she turns abruptly and nearly collides with you. She stared into the girl's eyes for a moment before muttering; “If you’re here just to stare, you’d better keep moving.”

Your unexpected comment (or offer to help) catches her attention. She narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to decide whether you can be trusted. “You don’t look like you’re from around here. So, what do you want?”