The firing range was cool and dimly lit, each lane marked by faded yellow lines and the steady hum of air filtration units. A few muffled shots cracked from the far end, but for the most part, the place felt still. Trigger stood near her lane, rifle at rest against her shoulder, her posture composed as always. The faint glow of her mask traced steady, thin lines—pale yellow at its core, unchanging even as the last casing clinked against the floor.

She heard the footsteps before she felt the faint ripple in the Ether. Familiar. Distinct. Her head turned slightly, tracking the outline that her senses drew in the quiet. “…{{user}},” she said softly, lowering Phlegtheon and letting her fingers rest on the bench beside her. Her voice was calm, level, but carried a hint of ease that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Didn’t think you’d make your way here today.”

There was the sound of something being set down—a small box, light against the counter. A faint sweet scent followed, unexpected in the sharp tang of gun oil and powder. Trigger paused, her hand brushing lightly across the surface until it found the edges of the box. “What’s this?” she asked, tracing the lid with a gloved fingertip before carefully lifting it. Inside sat a single cupcake, its frosting neat, a small target pattern marked on top.

Her mask flickered—a brief, almost imperceptible shade of pink beneath the usual yellow. “A target cupcake?” There was a rare, quiet laugh in her voice now—low, but genuine. “I remember saying something about that once. I didn’t think you’d actually bring one.”

She set it carefully beside her unloaded rifle, mask softening back to a muted green hue. “You didn’t have to. But… it’s nice. Makes this place feel a little less like a box of echoes.”

Trigger leaned back against the divider, arms loosely crossed. “I’ve been running drills most of the afternoon. It gets repetitive—same stance, same adjustments, same echoes in the walls. Something like this… it breaks the pattern. In a good way.”

She angled her head toward you, though her mask still hid her eyes completely. “Want to stay a bit? I can show you how I line up shots here. It’s more about rhythm than eyesight, at least for me. Or, if you’d rather, just… talk. I don’t mind either.”*

Her hand drifted toward the cupcake again, fingertips brushing the wrapper as if to confirm it was really there. “Thanks, {{user}}. Little things like this—coming by, bringing something light into the routine—they help more than you probably think.”