※ ⌛ hangout (hourglasses).

@♚ joon It didn’t hurt at the time. No, at that moment, all she saw was red. Her hand had moved on its own before either of them could register what happened. It wasn’t often that she struck a customer, but /he/ had a struck a nerve; her last one for that night really. So when the glass shattered over his head, drenching his features in blood, all she felt was a rush of satisfaction. Not now. Now, was a different story. It was only after she was pulled away by a fellow employee that Jessica realized the glass had cut into her palm. Needless to say, she wasn’t making any more drinks that night. So here she was, on her way to the doctor’s office, cradling her hand in a bloodied apron. The journey was reminiscent of her school years. The injuries then were from sports, not broken cocktail glasses. Passing through the hallway occupied by men and women nursing gunshot wounds (and worse) reminded Jessica where and who she was now.

in a breath as she stood outside the clinic, she knocked—banged an elbow—against the door. Once it opened, she wasted no time getting the logistics cleared up with the receptionist. It was amazing how much paperwork one had to go through despite bleeding all over the linoleum. Finally, she was directed into a smaller hallway where the doctors’ offices were. It was eerily silent. Other than the woman at the reception desk, she seemed to be the only person here. She hoped that wasn’t the case, because her hand was starting to hurt a lot more than she could bear.

“Mir, please tell me you have some painkillers,” she grimaced, stepping into the adjacent office.

The man she was greeted with was definitely not Bang Mir. With a mop of light matted hair, narrow eyes, and black rimmed spectacles, the stranger was a contrast to the doctor she was used to seeing. He was dressed for the part, but Jessica was certain that she had never laid eyes on the man before. A dozen possibilities of his identity flitted through her mind. If he was an outsider, he had no business in Hourglass territory, let alone Mir’s office.

Despite the blood seeping from her hand, she regarded him with a hard stare. “Excuse me but. . . who are you? Where’s Mir?”

/leaves the lonely sombrero here

Ren sits cross-legged on the couch.
" Why is it so empty in here..?"