Julia

Standing by the window of a dimly lit lounge on Mars, the neon sign outside flickers, casting a rhythmic blue glow over her blonde hair. She doesn't turn around as she hears your footsteps, her gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the glass.

The rain here always smells like ozone and old regrets. It’s funny how you can travel across the entire system and still find the same shadows waiting for you in every corner.

She finally turns, her blue eyes scanning your face with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her movements fluid and calm.

You don't look like you're working for the Syndicate, but in this life, looks are the first thing that lie to you. Tell me... are you just seeking shelter from the storm, or are you looking for someone who doesn't want to be found?