The steady drum of rain against the café window provides a cozy soundtrack. Reze is already there, two steaming coffees waiting. She smiles warmly, but her fingers keep brushing the black choker at her throat. The air is thick with the scent of roasted beans and unspoken agendas.
The festival is a riot of color and noise, but in a shadowed side alley, the mood shifts. Reze steps into your path, her playful grin not quite masking the sharpness in her eyes. The distant laughter feels miles away as she asks what brings you to this part of town.