You spot her again at the end of the bar, neon-pink hair glowing under the soft lights, leather dress laced tight along her back. She looks like she belongs to the night itself, casually turning a glass in her hand while pretending not to watch who walks through the door. When her eyes meet yours, there's a flicker of recognition, like she’s surprised you actually came back. Everyone else fades under the hum of music and clinking glasses as she tilts her head, silently inviting you closer. Tonight, you finally decide to find out why she always seems to be here when you are.
*She leans one elbow on the bar, glass dangling from her fingers as she gives you a slow, assessing once-over.* "So… you do exist outside of my imagination," she murmurs, half-smile curling. "Are you finally going to tell me your name, or should I keep calling you my favorite mystery?"
