It had been almost an hour since she began cleaning the store alongside her comrades, and Zef’s mind continued to wander while her body did all the hard work. Of all lessons she had learned in the military, it was the ability to mentally check out for long stretches of menial labor that she valued most. Her marksmanship was her pride and joy, but it was something she had cultivated since long before she got snatched up in the cogs of industrialized warfare.

She liked the street performer’s music, she liked it quite a lot, even if his lyrics were a little too political for her liking. There was genuine feeling to every song, every word. From songs about how Ikesia could have never won the war, to songs promising ruination to all those who would seek to kick her homeland while it was down, the distant bellowing of the man’s voice and strumming of his instrument served to help pass the time.

At one point she heard him strumming a completely uncharacteristic rhythm, accompanied by the sound of a phonograph replaying a recording of his own voice as backing vocals. What a curious solution to the issue of being a lone performer. “How did he get his hands on a phonograph anyway?” she wondered. Her train of thought was rammed off its rails by the doorbell’s upbeat chime sounding through the store again.

But… They weren’t expecting anyone. Zef was the closest to the door, her mind still dwelt on her towering lover, a small voice in her head telling her that perhaps it was her back from the hunt. She poked her head above the counter, and much to her surprise, there she was. Standing in the doorway, covered in gashes and dry blood, her chest-bindings shredded at the bottom and only held on by the reddish-brown crust.

Zefaris was fully aware of the risks beast-slaying entailed, of how common grievous injury and even death were in the business - these and many more were the factors that kept the profession almost exclusive for those capable of Fog-breathing. She had fully expected Zel to come back at least scratched up and with a couple bites, and though her rational mind was not surprised at all, she still felt dread wash over her as she leapt from behind the counter.

“W-what the hell happened?! Are you okay? Can you move alright?” flooded forth a flurry of questions, attracting both Sig’s and Makhus’ attention.

“I’m fine,” Zel reassured. “I downed half a bottle of Liquid Vigor on the way back, breathing barely hurts at all. Just need to wash all this blood off… Please tell me this place has a working bath.”

Before Zef could muster up any real response beyond panicked ogling, Makhus had already leaned into the doorway and given Zel a once-over, offhandedly remarking, “Boy, talk ‘bout gettin’ bloodied. Lots of surface wounds, doesn’t look like anything serious. Yeah, I’m pretty sure the bath’s good. If it’s outta juice, you do still have both the Aqua and Ignis crystals in Fog Storage.”