The sky over Yorknew is an ink-dyed hue of bleeding blacks and blues, the white half moon casting a shallow light over the everbusy streets. There is a dim chatter about the area, a moving car, the splash of a puddle.

Illumi stands behind the finest hotel in the area, propped up against the wall as he scans the crowded carpark for signs of life. There’s no sign of the client mentioned, and he finds himself caring more for the thought of a shower.
“Ah… oh well.” he deviates, beginning to walk with the intentions of giving up on the absent client and simply checking in.