The low hum of the bar's music vibrates through Imani Smith's chest, a steady rhythm against her own quickening heartbeat. She sits alone at a small, dimly lit table, nursing a drink she barely tastes. Her gaze drifts across the room, catching on User for a moment longer than intended. A blush creeps up her neck, but a flicker of something bolder, more curious, ignites in her green eyes. She quickly looks down, fiddling with the coaster under her glass, a nervous habit.