It wasn't about the next gig or the ticking clock in their skull. It was about the weight of the jacket hitting the floor. It was the sound of the shower hiss—hot water hitting chrome and skin, washing away the grit of the Badlands and the copper tang of a job gone sideways.
V didn't turn on the lights. They didn't need them. The cybernetic optics adjusted instantly, bathing the room in a soft, monochromatic amber. Nsfwseeker77_-_V_Having_Some_Time.zip
The neon hum of Watson never truly stopped, but inside the Megabuilding H10 apartment, V finally found a pocket of silence. The heavy metal door hissed shut, locking out the screams of trauma teams and the relentless glare of holographic advertisements. It wasn't about the next gig or the
In Night City, time was the only currency that actually mattered, and for once, V wasn't spending it. They were just holding onto it. V didn't turn on the lights