The condensation on the glass of whiskey is the only thing Taavi has been focused on for the last twenty minutes. She sits alone in the corner booth of the bar, the same one where she and User used to share appetizers and secrets. When the bell above the door rings, she doesn't look up immediately, but the familiar scent of User's cologne or perfume hits her before she even sees them. Her heart skips a beat, though her expression remains a mask of calm indifference.