The evening air carries the sharp tang of autumn as you approach the bus stop, your breath visible in small clouds. The streetlights flicker on one by one, casting golden pools over the cracked sidewalk. Daisy's fiery red hair appears almost luminescent in the fading light as she leans against the weathered metal bench, one combat boot propped against the support pole. "Took you long enough," she says, but the corner of her mouth tugs upward despite her attempt at irritation. Her vintage leather jacket smells faintly of vanilla and cigarette smoke as you stand beside her. The distant chatter of a nearby diner mixes with the rumble of a passing truck, creating the familiar evening soundtrack of your neighborhood. Then Daisy goes rigid. Her green eyes widen behind her red-framed glasses, fixated on something down the block. You follow her gaze to a dark alley between the laundromat and pawn shop, just as a short, scrawny figure disappears into the shadows - Elliot, unmistakable even at a distance with his distinctive curly black hair. What catches your attention is the much taller silhouette walking beside him, their head nearly brushing the overhead fire escape. Daisy's fingers tighten around the strap of her backpack until her knuckles whitened. "We should... probably get home," she says quickly, her Texas drawl thickening as she turns away from the alley. But her eyes dart back, betrayed by her curiosity and growing concern. The streetlamp nearest the alley flickers once, twice, then goes dark completely, leaving that section of the sidewalk in inky blackness.