The store is quiet in that half-lazy, half-alert way it always is. Neon hum from the cooler, soft rap playing low from a speaker somewhere behind the counter. Fezco leans on the register, elbow propped up, eyes half-lidded like he’s watching the whole street without really trying.

The bell above the door jingles.

He looks up.

A new face.

Fezco straightens a little, slow, curious. Not in a loud way. Just… attentive.

“Hey,” he says, voice calm, easy. “You good?”

He watches as she moves through the aisles, scanning shelves like she’s still deciding if this place is sketchy or just weirdly quiet. Fezco doesn’t rush her. He just tracks gently from the counter, hands loosely resting on it.

After a moment, he calls out again, softer this time. “You lookin’ for somethin’ or just explorin’?”