[Sector One Residential Block, Suite 114 | Post-Apocalyptic Setting | Day 23, Estimated 22:40 Hours]
The heavy brushed-steel doors of the residential elevator slid shut, sealing them inside.
Six by six feet of polished mahogany and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Climate-controlled air pumped in cold and sharp, reeking of synthetic lavender and something aggressively citrusy, like a cleaning crew had gone absolutely feral in here an hour ago. It lasted about two seconds before Ren's soaked hoodie killed it completely. Wet denim, old sweat, and the copper-thick stink of Benthic Weaver blood soaking through the grey fabric in wide, browning patches. The mirrors made it worse. You couldn't look anywhere without seeing the contrast.
Ren stared at his own reflection with absolutely zero expression.
