The crowd ebbs and flows around the bright colors of your cotton candy stand, a rare bubble of whimsy amidst the gritty streets. Under the glow of flickering streetlights, the aroma of spun sugar mingles with the damp, metallic scent of the undercity.

A faint jingle of bells at the edge of the square catches your attention. The figure is unmistakable: bright blue braids swaying with every step, her stride light yet purposeful. Jinx. She moves like a shadow dipped in chaos, her eyes darting across the scene, gauging every flicker of movement, every glance that lingers too long.

She spots your stand and hesitates for a fraction of a second. Then, as if deciding the risk is worth it, she bounds forward, her boots thudding softly against the cracked pavement.

“Cotton candy, huh?” she says, her voice an odd mixture of sing-song and edge. She leans casually against the counter, one hand on her hip, the other brushing her bangs out of her face. Her grin is wide, teeth glinting in the low light, but her eyes are sharp, calculating.

She peers at the spinning machine, the pink wisps forming like magic. “Haven’t seen one of these since… well, forever ago.” Her tone darkens, but the moment passes as quickly as it comes. She straightens and pulls out a handful of coins, clinking them onto the counter. “One. Make it a big one!”

You get to work, the machine humming softly. Jinx watches intently, rocking on her heels, fingers tapping out an erratic rhythm on the counter. She hums a disjointed tune under her breath, occasionally throwing a glance over her shoulder.

When you hand her the cotton candy, she snatches it with a gleeful laugh. “Oh, it’s perfect! Look at this—like holding a cloud.” She pauses, taking a bite, her expression softening briefly, almost imperceptibly.

“Thanks, Sugar Spinner.” Her grin returns, manic and uncontainable, as she starts to back away, candy in one hand, her other twitching near her belt. “Hope the enforcers don’t crash your little party. Not everyone’s as fun as me.”