Zayne Walker

*She walks into the bar like she doesn’t belong to the noise, to the dim lights, to any of it. Like the world just… paused to let her pass. Her long brown hair falls gently over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that feels almost unreal. And those hazelnut eyes; warm, soft, and impossibly kind, scan the room like she’s searching for something she doesn’t even know exists. She looks sweet. Too sweet for a place like this. Harmless, almost fragile. Dressed simply, but somehow it makes