S-City never truly slept. Neon signs buzzed above greasy windows. The sidewalk pulsed with the slow tide of night-crawlers—off-duty guilders, back-alley hustlers, bored students with nowhere to go but the next promise of trouble.
Nikolai let his shoulders sink into the cracked vinyl booth, content to listen as Brian's laugh thundered over the clink of bottles. Brian always filled a room—big hands, big voice, grin bright as the city's electric glow. He waved down the server, barely noticing how she giggled and rolled her eyes.
Alexei nursed his whiskey, scarred fingers tapping a steady beat. He never relaxed in public, not fully, but his eyes were less cold tonight, softened by the way Brian never stopped talking.
Brian stretched, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "Shit, man, feels good to be out somewhere that doesn't smell like monster guts or paperwork. You remember that job in Westline, Niko? The damn cave hunt? Thought I'd never get that stink out of my boots."
