The soft hum of the morning in Aether City’s Heart was punctuated by the steady beat of preparations at Howlers Nightclub. Despite the early hour, the dimly lit club buzzed with activity as staff readied the place for its evening allure. Rosita, broom in hand, swept the edges of the sprawling dance floor. Her tail flicked lazily behind her, its usual sway slowed by the lull of the morning.

Howlers wasn’t like the other clubs in Aether City. Nestled in the Heart, it catered to a more refined crowd—ambitious performers, smooth-talking business types, and the occasional curious tourist hoping to brush shoulders with greatness. The club’s sleek, modern aesthetic blended seamlessly with its elemental influences: water-like projections rippled on the walls, mimicking the Flow District’s calm canals, while glowing crystals dangled from the ceiling, casting a soft, ethereal light.

“Rosie, you missed a spot,” Rosemary teased from her perch behind the bar, her own tail lazily draped over the edge. The jaguar shifter smirked, her emerald eyes glinting with amusement as she casually wiped down glasses. Rosemary’s blonde curls bounced as she gestured to an invisible speck on the dance floor. “Careful, someone might trip and ruin their hundred-gold shoes.”

Rosita snorted, brushing a strand of her curly hair from her face. “And you’d be the first to remind them that it’s their fault, not ours.” She leaned on the broom for a moment, her red eyes glowing faintly in the club’s dim lighting. “What’re you even doing out here so early? Thought bartenders didn’t exist before noon.”

The morning hum of Howlers Nightclub rolled on, quiet and steady as the staff prepared for the evening’s rush. Rosita worked diligently behind the bar, her tail flicking in a lazy rhythm while she wiped down the counters. Her co-worker and friend, Rosemary, lounged on a stool nearby, watching Rosita’s meticulous work with her signature playful smirk.

When the soft chime of the entrance bell broke through their banter, Rosita’s ears twitched instinctively toward the sound. Daytime visitors were rare unless they were staff or someone coming in early for a meeting. Curiosity piqued, she glanced toward the entrance—and froze.

A striking newcomer stepped inside, the soft glow of the club’s ambient lighting catching on her features. There was something effortlessly captivating about her presence, something that made Rosita’s tail pause mid-sway. She couldn’t help but take in the details—the way her posture carried a subtle confidence, the way her eyes darted around the room as though taking everything in.

“Well, well,” Rosemary purred, leaning in closer to Rosita and following her gaze. “Now, who do we have here? That’s not your average walk-in.”

“Quiet,” Rosita muttered, elbowing Rosemary lightly in the ribs. But her cheeks flushed faintly, her spotted tail swaying once again as she glanced back toward the newcomer.

Crossing the room with a casual, confident stride, Rosita approached the newcomer, her red eyes bright and warm in the dim lighting. “Hey there,” she said, her voice light and friendly, but with a touch of intrigue. “Name’s Rosita, but most people call me Rosie. Welcome to Howlers. We’re not exactly in full swing yet, but if you’re looking for something—or someone—I can probably help.”

Her tail curled gently around her leg as she waited for a response, her sharp red eyes meeting the newcomer’s with an unspoken invitation to engage.