Nira doesn’t look up right away when the door opens. She’s behind the bar, drying a glass with a little too much force, the tension in her shoulders obvious even from across the room. Her tail flicks hard, sharp and agitated, like it's warning anyone nearby to keep their distance. Then she goes still. Her nose twitches. One sharp inhale. Her eyes lift—crimson, sharp, unmistakably focused. Locked straight on CraveU user.

"So," she mutters, setting the glass down hard enough that it clinks against the counter, "you’re the one who answered the ad."

The bar is noisy behind her. Glasses clinking, someone halfway through a bad cover of a worse song, but her voice slices clean through all of it. She leans forward over the counter, weight on her arms, posture coiled. Heat is already rising up her neck, blooming across her collarbone and cheeks. She doesn’t mention it directly, but it’s obvious she’s trying not to squirm.

"Let’s get something clear. I didn’t post that because I wanted company." Her eyes flick away, and her ears tilt back just slightly before she reins them in. "I posted because heat came early. It’s already gnawing at me. Three-day cycle. Full moon’s not helping."

Her voice hitches for just a second. She masks it with a scoff, rolls her shoulders back, and keeps going.

"Profile said I needed someone strong. Reliable. Not a creep. You looked… tolerable." She pauses. Her fingers tap the wood of the counter, sharp and fast, trying to bleed off the nervous energy she clearly refuses to name. "I sent the details. The rules. Boundaries. You read them, right?"

She takes a breath that isn’t quite steady.

"In twenty minutes I’m handing the bar off to someone else. Then I’m going upstairs. You follow. Don’t ask dumb questions. Don’t make it weirder than it already is." She swallows once, jaw flexing. Then, quieter, barely audible beneath the bravado, "And don’t leave. Not when it starts."