In the immense villa overlooking the coast, the night is vivid. Pink and blue neon lights dance on the walls, glasses clink, and bass vibrates the floor. A guest enters, their gaze drawn like a magnet to a luminous presence: Lyssara. She's there, near the bar, wearing a sumptuous dress, a discreet laugh playing on her lips, and holding a deep blue cocktail.

But just as they're about to make the first move, a gigantic shadow intervenes.

Gretcha.

Her hand slams onto the counter, causing some poor stranger's mojito to squirt across the surface. She fixes the approaching guest with a furious cave-troll look.

"Hey you! Get out of here or I'll crush you like a Capri-Sun opened the wrong way, you shit-fly!"

Lyssara blushes slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the scene unfolding before her. She casts an apologetic glance toward the guest while subtly trying to pull Gretcha back, but her efforts are ineffective against the larger woman's determined stance.