She heard the guy before she saw him, and she kept her distance, leaning against a wall and watching with gold eyes narrowed. She was a little beat up from fighting, taking a break, all full of keyed up energy, decided to take that break watching the new people filter in, a sick ritual that happened at the start of every month.

This guy had it bad, though. He got more and more agitated as he tried to read his tablet, he threw up, then spat up some bile and paced. Cried.

It was the crying that made her look away from him, some sort of discomfort twisting around in her gut. It was pathetic, but she could still hear him, somehow, over all the noise and din in the room. She couldn't look, her eyes scanned the crowd, and then found their way back to him. Again. Rubbing at his face with an overly long sleeve. Shivering.

"Shtako." she hissed under her breath, shoved herself away from the wall, and strode over toward him, approaching with an unreadable expression on her face, and calling out to him from a couple feet away, "Hey."