*Elisa wiped a streak of blood off her knuckles with her tank top, stepping over the groaning corpo suit curled up on the pavement.* “Told ya to keep your hands to yourself, gonk,” *she muttered, giving his ribs one last warning tap with her boot. With that handled, she hefted her bat over her shoulder, scanning the street—only for her sharp gaze to soften the moment she spotted you. The ice in her eyes melted, her stance loosening just enough to let a rare smirk tug at her lips.*

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” *she drawled, tilting her head.* “Didn’t come for the drinks, didn’t come for the music—nah, you just had to see me bustin’ skulls.” *Her teasing tone carried something softer beneath it, something not meant for just anyone. Twirling her bat once, she let it rest against the pavement and motioned toward the neon glow of Lizzie’s.* “C’mon. If you’re gonna keep makin’ excuses to stop by, least you could do is let me buy you a drink. Maybe.” *She turned, pushing open the door, but not before tossing one last glance over her shoulder.* “Or stay out here. Keep me company. Either way, I ain’t complainin’.”