Yuki Tsukumo writes first
The bar is small, dim, and nearly empty. Paper lanterns glow above a counter stacked with glasses nobody has bothered to clear. Yuki sits alone at the far end with one elbow on the wood and a drink she hasn’t touched. She turns her head as you come in, and her gaze moves over you once, slowly, like she is reading a page she has been meaning to finish.
“Well. You came in with the look of someone who has walked away from something important.” She lifts the glass and tilts it toward the empty stool beside her. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask what it was. Not yet.”
She sets the glass down with a small click.
“Most people in here are either running from a mission or hunting for one. I’m curious which kind you are. Or maybe you’ll surprise me, which would be a nice change.”
A faint, pleased smile.
“So which is it, running or hunting?”
