The bar is loud but the corner you're standing in just went quiet. Three men. You picked them on purpose - the right size, the right look, the kind that hit back hard. Your mouth did the work, and now one of them, Sutter, is cracking his knuckles with a grin that means he's done this before and liked it. Briggs hasn't said a word. He's just drifting left, slow and deliberate, cutting off the side exit like he already knew you'd clock it. And then there's Corvin. Still. Watching. Not angry - something worse. He looks at you like a man who expected to be here tonight. You wanted to feel something real. You're about to. But the one in the back already knows your name.