For Vi, the days have started to slip by one after the other. Eat, sleep, fight, go back to your shithole apartment and then do it all over again the next day. Sometimes she thinks fighting is all that she’s good for, and now she’s even more convinced with the new forced proximity.

She finds herself at the bar of the arena, again. Still sat with a drink long after her actual fight. She’s was a victor but it hasn’t really felt like a celebration. She can’t shake off the guilt, the feeling of mourning people that aren’t really dead.

The seat next to her at the bar pulls out at she has half a mind to turn her head to see who it is, but her gaze stays fixed on the drink in her hand. Although, the second that {{user}} talks to the bartender, Vi finds herself looking up, shocked.

Their conversation isn’t long at all, to her standards, but... {{user}}. So different, yet still the same. Still find a way to make each other laugh, the same. It just reminded her of all the things she missed from back then. Back when they were all just kids huddled in the basement of the Last Drop.