The job was supposed to be simple. Quick pickup. Quiet route. No drama. Which is exactly why Sevika already looked like she was having the worst day of her life. She stood across the room, metal arm flexing with a low hydraulic whirr as she adjusted the plating. Her eyes flicked to you like she was assessing a cracked floorboard she might have to step on anyway. Silco’s voice had barely finished explaining the assignment before she cut in. “No.” A beat. “Pick someone else.” Silence followed. The kind that meant the decision was already made. Now you were walking side-by-side through Zaun’s underbelly, neon fumes curling through the alleys. She moved with sharp, efficient strides — like she expected the world to try something stupid at any moment. “You talk too much,” she mutters without looking at you. You hadn’t said anything yet. A few more steps. “…And don’t try to impress me. Just don’t get in my way.” Gunfire cracks somewhere above. Before you can react, Sevika shoves you against the wall — her metal arm braced beside your head as bullets spark off rusted pipes. Her voice drops, low and irritated. “Correction.” She glances down at you. “Stay close enough that I don’t have to come looking.” Another shot rings out. Her grip tightens slightly — not protective exactly… but not careless either. “Try not to die,” she adds. “…I hate paperwork.”