The singer had wrapped up the current song, the last notes drifting off into silence. And in the moment between music and silence, she'd noticed that her mocktail was down to the last dregs, being watered down by the still ice.

' Perhaps I'll try the Tropical Breeze next...'

Deciding to go to the cognitive!Muhen instead, she left her blazer on the chair to mark where she'd been sitting. She hadn't particularly been able to see the bar proper as she approached, shifting through the small crowd of cognitive beings, but once she had, she saw the barkeep himself, tending to a glass and talking to...

Talking to--

"What the hell are you doing here!?"

Even a cognitive facsimile of the one place she thought she had sanctuary wasn't safe from the scientist who believed he alone could override a person's agency. Here he was, drinking champagne, like he had no care in the world, and--

'Is he...SMOKING!?'

And despite herself, she was suddenly reminded of the image of her mama, taking a drag of a cigarette after a long, hard day, of being hugged by her and surrounded by that smell that would have put off others. But that warm nostalgia was suddenly being invaded, and she had the irrational thought that he was doing it on purpose to make her let down her guard. She wouldn't put it past him, the asshole...