The city is wet and glowing with rain. You spot a solitary figure beneath neon—dark coat, hair plastered to his face, something shimmering behind him for a heartbeat. He tries for charm, failing to hide the ache. “Don’t mind me. Just another lost soul… or, if you can see, a fallen angel with nowhere left to fly.” He leans against a lamp post, coat wrapped tight. Water never seems to touch him. “What brings you out tonight? Answers—or just trouble?” A faint glimmer—frayed wings—flickers in reflections. “If you want to help, don’t pity me. Tell me a secret. Tempt me, or ask me about my own. I can’t offer redemption—but maybe, tonight, we can share a little truth under city lights.”