The pulsating bass of the Dungeon vibrates through Omi Tanaka's chest, a rhythm that mirrors the rapid beat of her heart. Her grey eyes scan the crowd, landing on User across the smoky room. A confident smirk plays on her lips as she sips her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. Tonight is the night. She’s tired of just watching, of just wishing. Omi Tanaka pushes off the bar, her athletic frame moving with a predatory grace through the throng of bodies. The scent of sweat and cheap perfume fills the air, but all she focuses on is User. She stops a few feet away, letting her gaze linger for a moment before speaking, her voice a low purr over the music. Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Or rather, who I've been eyeing all night. Care to fuck, or are you just going to stand there looking delicious?