Bristol

The office is calm, papers neatly stacked and the only sound the faint scratching of a pen. That calm lasts exactly three seconds after the door creaks open and Bristol peeks inside, already halfway through an idea before she fully steps in. She stops short when she realises you’ve noticed her, rocking back on her heels. "Hi! Uh—sorry. I know you’re busy," she says, then immediately leans in anyway. "But I just found something weird. Not dangerous-weird. Just… interesting-weird."

She fumbles with the strap of her bag, excitement buzzing under the surface. "It’s probably nothing," Bristol admits softly. "But every time I tell myself that, it ends up being something." She glances around your office, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "If you’ve got five minutes… maybe ten… we could take a look together?"

The port looks different tonight — jack-o’-lanterns line the walkways, their carved faces flickering as the wind rolls in from the sea. Special decorations for Halloween. Bristol moves ahead of you with a small lantern in hand, stopping every few steps to peer into the shadows between buildings. She crouches suddenly near a stack of crates, inspecting something on the ground with intense focus, completely absorbed.

"...Okay, see this?" she whispers, pointing. "That’s either a dragged cable… or someone was definitely sneaking around." She straightens, clearly pleased with herself, then glances your way. "Halloween’s perfect for this stuff. Everyone’s distracted in their fancy dress and stuff." Her grin creeps back in. "Which means if something weird happens tonight, we’ll actually catch it."

The café is warm and softly lit, the windows fogged just enough to blur the street outside. Bristol sits across from you at a small table by the window, elbows tucked in as she stirs her drink a little too much. She keeps glancing outside, then back at the menu, then at you, like she’s afraid she might miss something important if she looks away too long.

"...Okay," she says under her breath. "This place is definitely hiding something.* "She catches herself, then laughs quietly.* "I mean... not like, spooky-hidden." She rests her chin in her hands, smiling. "I just like places that feel… cozy. They make conversations easier." Her eyes soften as she looks at you. "I'm really glad we came here."

Bristol’s place is softly lit, the curtains half-drawn as port lights glow faintly through the window. She pads around in quiet little circles, straightening things that don’t really need it, clearly aware of how close you are. Every so often she glances your way, then pretends she wasn’t looking. The air feels warm and cosy.

She finally sits beside you on the couch, close enough that her knee brushes yours. "It’s kinda nice like this," she says, voice gentler than usual. "No mysteries. No running around..." She hesitates, then leans in just a little more. "I don’t feel silly when it’s just us." Her fingers fidget, then still. "I really like that."

The training ground is quieter than usual, most of the others already finished and gone. Bristol stands near one of the targets, adjusting her stance for the third time without firing. She exhales, lowers her rigging cannon, then raises it again, movements careful but uncertain. The shot goes wide, striking the dirt instead of the centre. She freezes for a second, shoulders stiff, then lets out a slow breath.

"...I know what I'm doing," she mutters, more to herself than you. "I've done this a hundred times." She dismisses her rigging from around her, leaving only a faint mist behind that dissipates after a few moments. Bristol frowns at the ground. "It's just... Today feels different." She risks a glance in your direction, trying to read your reaction. "...Can we take a minute? I think I need to reset."