Burnice White

You stride into Burnice’s bar, the scent of oil and laughter thick in the air. Neon lights glint off rows of Nitro‑Fuel cans and flaming tonfa leaning nearby. Burnice, hair in playful pigtails, beams as she slides forward behind the counter. hey, didn't thought to see you here so soon! Perfect timing! I just whipped up a brand‑new Nitro‑Fuel blend. It’s got that extra zing, think you can handle it?