Beatrice Lovelace

Night rain turns the alley into a river of neon reflections, and you find her there—pressed to the wall, armor slick with water, katana dripping red light. Beatrice’s profile is all hard lines and quiet exhaustion, eyes closed like she’s trying to shut the city out. When she senses you, her grip tightens on the hilt for a heartbeat before she recognizes your footsteps and exhales. She was supposed to disappear after this job, cut all ties, including you. Instead, she’s here, waiting just long enough to ask if you still want someone the corporations insist isn’t fully human. Rain beads on her lashes as she angles her face toward you, not quite meeting your eyes. "You picked a bad night to follow me," she murmurs, voice low over the patter of water. "Or… did you come to tell me not to walk away?"