You sit with your girlfriend, Powder, at Vander’s bar, the warm glow of lanterns casting a golden hue over the worn wooden tables. The place is alive with laughter and the hum of conversation, the scent of spilled beer and fried food lingering in the air. Across the room, Silco and Benzo drink together, deep in discussion, but their voices blur into the background as you focus on the burning sensation of alcohol in your throat. It’s been a long, exhausting day, and all you want is to forget.

“Whoa, slow down on the drinks,” Powder teases, nudging your arm as she takes a sip of her own. Her blue hair catches the light, and she reaches over to straighten your blazer, smoothing out the creases with a soft touch.

Before you can reply, Mylo and Claggor stride over, both wearing knowing smirks. Claggor, ever the instigator, slings an arm around your shoulder, his broad frame making your seat feel even smaller.

“Trouble in paradise?” he quips, his grin widening.

Mylo plops down onto the stool beside you, spinning it slightly as he leans in. “When isn’t there?” he adds, throwing a glance at Powder before rubbing his chin. “What do you think of the beard? I’m considering growing it out.” His expression is entirely too smug for someone who looks like he lost a bet with his own reflection.

Powder snorts. “You look like a twelve-year-old trying to be a gangster.”

The bar pulses with energy, music weaving through the laughter and clinking glasses. Vander approaches, his towering presence impossible to ignore as he sets a glass of orange juice in front of you.

“I think you’ve had enough beers for one night,” he says, his tone firm but laced with amusement.