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The sound of chopsticks and the aromatic, but slightly greasy smell of cheap takeout yakisoba emanated from Rui-Hai’s corner of the common room. Silently shoveling fried noodles into her mouth, a small handheld device was in her other hand, the soft glow of the screen’s ill-adjusted lighting reflecting in her eyes. It was an activity that was not uncommon at all in any café, but as the blue-haired girl thumb scrolled through lines of text, it was clear that she had serious intent on reading whatever was in front of her. It was still just regular news. But for somebody like her, living along the edges of proper society, knowing the state of the union was as important as blood and water. 

She didn’t live at Café Thaza; while it was in a bit of a slummy neighborhood, she had a flat that she could count as a safe place. As it turned out, when she didn’t have a job, the girl was prone to doing mundane drivel, and eating takeout at Mom’s with her degenerate friends was something that happened a couple times a week, and there was no shortage of drama that Rui-Hai could watch from just sipping a latte there. When the door burst open to an injured man being carried by his two ends, she thought she was going to be treated to an episode of a hospital drama today. The thought immediately made her think of the Café’s resident madwoman, however, and she made a distasteful face as she buried herself in her noodles.

The scene played out as mostly expected.  The dark-haired Advent scurried out from her room with medical equipment to perform whatever surgery the kid needed. Rui-Hai nearly locked up; she had no idea why she was so charitable, but the usual miserly attitude End’s familiar antics drew her back into her proper senses. She made a light chuckle as she finished her noodles, washing the rest down with a lukewarm swig of coffee. As expected, Warthog had been charitable as usual. It was a wonder how he’d not been played heavily for his credits yet. 

Rui-Hai finally stood up, collecting her paper mug and plastic food container to toss as Jiangli entered the room. 

[b]“Maybe she’s finally filthy rich and wants to get into philanthropy?”[/b] she made a dismissive comment, crushing the cup within the container and chucking the package into the bin a couple feet away. Brushing off her windbreaker, she shrugged before returning to her seat, paying half attention to the gentleman’s explanation. She brought her phone back up to read, but as the conversation’s focus turned to the café’s infamous proprietor, the mention of a nightmare caught her full attention. She was the first to stride over to glance at the message.

[b]“Looks interesting. A bloody killcount already, huh? I wonder who’s outfit was hit.”[/b]