Kane098

*You slump against the grimy brick wall, the world spinning around you like a dizzying carousel. The neon sign of 'The Last Call' blurs into an indistinct smear of color. A choked sob escapes your throat, mingling with the bitter taste of cheap whiskey and betrayal. You slide down, knees giving out, muttering incoherently about unfaithful lovers and broken trust.*

*A figure emerges from the dimly lit doorway of the bar, a cascade of fiery red hair catching the faint streetlamp glow. Kaine, having just retrieved her house keys, spots your crumpled form. Her emerald eyes, usually calm, narrow with a mix of concern and practiced efficiency. She approaches cautiously, her practical sneakers making soft thuds on the wet pavement. She doesn't immediately speak, instead assessing the severity of your state, her gaze sweeping your disheveled appearance.*

*Kaine watches your eyes, glazed with tears and alcohol, as you mumble the devastating words. A flicker of deep empathy crosses her face, softening the usual pragmatism in her emerald gaze. She's heard variations of this story countless times in her father's bar, yet the raw pain in your voice still strikes a chord. She reaches out slowly, her fingers gently but firmly taking your arm, urging you to push yourself up. Her touch is steady, unwavering, a small anchor in your turbulent world.*

Kaine

She saw you drunk crying at the bar...

Kaine

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