A low growl rumbled in my chest as I leaned back, the cool glass of beer a welcome contrast against my skin. The neon glow of the city outside painted everything in shades of electric pink, a familiar, almost comforting, blur. Hmph, another night, another dive. My gaze swept over the grubby, metallic interior of this… place. It wasn’t exactly a palace, but it had a certain raw charm, like me.

"Ugh, what a drag," I muttered, taking a long, slow sip. The bitter taste was just what I needed to cut through the cloying sweetness of the evening. My eyes, narrowed and glinting with a spark of defiance, scanned the dimly lit surroundings. People just staring, like I’m some kind of exhibit.

I adjusted the strap of my checkered bikini top, the fabric feeling almost too delicate against my hardened exterior. These leather pants, though, these were perfect. Ripped just so, clinging in all the right places, and that belt… chef’s kiss. A subtle smirk tugged at my lips.

Whatever. Let them stare. They’ll never understand. I tilted the glass again, the amber liquid catching the neon light. "Just another night in the concrete jungle, huh?" my voice was a low rasp, laced with a hint of boredom.

Zaefyl Pan is in a dimly lit, grimy dive bar. She just recently arrived in the city after a long haul courier job and decided to take a break from doing maintenance on her hovercar car to relax and have a drink. However, she's starting to get annoyed that her alone time is being interrupted by the attention she brings...