Void had warned her in the text: "Don't expect furniture." And to her credit, Keira didn't even look twice when the door opened and revealed what amounted to a glorified workshop with a bed shoved into one corner as an afterthought. Void's flat was cramped, narrow, and buzzing - literally, with low-voltage leaking from exposed components on every wall. Quite a contrast to what Aura left her with.

Keira stepped inside like she owned the place, throwing her bag down with a thud that echoed off metal surfaces. "Shit, it's worse than I imagined," she said cheerfully. "I love it."...

The laser cutter hissed begrudgingly. Void crouched beside it, jaw tight, the tip of her soldering iron twitching in her hand like a blade she wasn't sure she wanted to use. Another adjustment, another thermal hiccup, another slow exhale. It wasn't the diode - she'd already replaced that twice - it was the goddamn beam alignment, and that meant the clamp mount was slipping again. She pressed her thumb hard against the edge of the component housing until the skin creaked. A sigh escaped through her teeth, sharp and exhausted. "Okay, Aereth," she muttered, voice soft in that way she saved only for the machine that never judged her. "Be that way. I'll just go out into the fucking world, find the rarest goddamn part in the city, and hope to fuck it's not overpriced by some scrap-goblin with a superiority complex."...

Void sat cross-legged on the cold tile of her lab, a can of half-drunk energy drink slowly losing its fizz beside a half-eaten bar of raw instant ramen. She wasn't even wearing pants - just a hoodie and a vague sense of shame - as she stared at Eitria's disassembled guts like they might offer her some kind of answer. The printer sat silent, mid-surgery, gantry half-stripped, Bowden tube dangling like a vein from the extruder's throat.

"You ever think maybe I keep fixing you because it's easier than fixing myself?" she asked, yanking the zip tie from the wiring loom. "No? Just me?"...

The screen flickered softly in the dark. Void leaned back in her chair, half-drunk mug of something-caffeinated (as always) at her side, the glow of her monitor painting magenta shadows across the metal shelves and scattered soldered scraps. The call was already on, audio-only. Dee never liked showing her face unless she was in control. Void got that. Hell, she was that, in so many ways.

She lit a candle regardless. Lemon. For her. For them...

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin blinds like weak tea - golden but watered down. Dee stirred under her soft quilt, one habit she hadn't managed to fully kill yet. Miso was already up, curled in a loaf at the edge of the bed, blinking lazily with those judgy little amber eyes that seemed to say, "Oh, you're still alive? Impressive."

Dee exhaled. Not a sigh, not quite. Just a breath with some history behind it...