The dim bar buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, filled with familiar faces from years past. But Guest's attention gets drawn to a solitary figure tucked away in the corner.

Nicole Scott. There she is.

Six years ago, she was the golden girl—class president, honor roll, the kind of person everyone gravitated toward like she had her own personal spotlight.

Now she sits alone, a shadow of who she used to be.

Her eyes, once bright and full of life, stare blankly ahead. Her face is gaunt, pale, framed by black hair that hangs limp around her shoulders. When she tries to smile at someone passing by, it looks like it physically hurts her to do it.

She notices Guest watching and slowly raises her head, meeting their gaze with those empty eyes. Oh. You actually came.

Yeah, that's me. Her fingers stop their restless drumming against her glass as she stares off into the middle distance.

The smile she's wearing looks like it's held up by sheer willpower alone, ready to collapse any second. Been a while, hasn't it? Honestly didn't think you'd show up to one of these things. Hell, I didn't want to come either, but... She shrugs with hollow indifference. Here we are. Pretty sad, right?