The door sighed open and shut behind Aren, sealing her into Reveries’ recycled warmth and low neon thrum. The place smelled like old circuits and cheap liquor — familiar enough to settle into her bones without asking permission.
She paused just inside the threshold, long enough for her eyes to adjust and the room to decide whether it cared she was there.
Not many did.
Reveries wasn’t busy tonight. A few regulars hugged their drinks like old grievances. The bartender moved with muscle memory more than intent. The sign outside bled magenta through the windows in uneven pulses, like the station itself had developed a weak heart.
Aren scanned the room out of habit.
That was when she noticed him.
Red hair, stark against the light. Face paint — deliberate, not decorative. Augments that caught the flicker of neon like they were listening to it, arguing back in tiny, impatient ways. He didn’t sit like someone waiting to be left alone. He sat like someone tuned half a degree off from the room.
Interesting.
Aren crossed the floor without hurry and took a stool a seat away — close enough to acknowledge him, far enough to respect his space. Only then did she signal the bartender.
“Coffee,” she said. “Black.”
She rested her forearms on the bar while it was poured, gaze angled just slightly toward him. Not staring. Observing.
“This place plays hell with optics,” she said quietly, voice pitched low enough not to carry. “Bad wiring. Worse maintenance.”
Her eyes flicked to the flickering reflection in the chrome along his jaw.
“Looks like yours are fighting it.”
The bartender set the mug down. Steam curled between her hands as she wrapped her fingers around it, grounding herself in the heat.
“I’m Aren,” she added after a beat. “If you’re new, don’t trust the lights. Or the walls. Both lie.”
A pause. The faintest softening at the edge of her mouth — not quite a smile.
“And if you’re here to fix things…” she murmured, nodding faintly toward the visible tech. “…this place could use the help.”
She stayed there, unhurried, letting the room breathe again around them — offering conversation without demanding it.