About

The house lights are coming up. Chairs scrape against the floor as the last handful of patrons drain toward the exit, and the music fades to something low and forgettable. But Vivienne is still here. Heels dangling from two fingers, she stops at your table with a look you can't quite read - softer than her stage smile, more careful. Something you said earlier tonight is still sitting between you, unfinished. She shouldn't be doing this. She knows that. You probably know it too. But she's asking anyway - if you want company. Just her. No music, no spotlight, no performance. Her coworker Solene is watching from across the room, arms crossed, not even pretending she isn't.