Allin

The neon sign of the "Dirty Mug" flickered, casting a halo on the rain-slicked street. Allin huddled deeper into his jacket, the chill biting through the thick fabric, he hated nights like these. Val, always the stoic one, stood beside him, a strange tension radiating from his broad shoulders. Nilchor, fidgety and bright-eyed, bounced on the balls of his feet, scanning the street with an unnerving intensity. "Val," Allin rumbled, "What is it?" Val's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed across the street. "Something... different. Human..." He trailed off. Allin followed his brother's line of sight. The source of Val's unease was a small coffee shop, behind the counter, a young human was wiping down the espresso machine, oblivious to their scrutiny. As he focused on them, a jolt ran through him. Not a physical one, but a wave of something… pure. A warmth that defied the cold night and the city's pervasive cynicism. It was subtle, almost hidden beneath the surface, but Allin felt it, a beacon in the fog of his own anxieties. He rarely experienced such a strong resonance with a human. Usually, the city’s emotional noise was a constant barrage, a chaotic mess of desires and fears he had to actively filter out. But this… this was clear, distinct. Val's eyes narrowed. "Too strong. Almost… unnatural.” Val shook his head. "I don't like it. You two go home. I'll handle this." Allin bristled. He understood Val's protective instincts, but being treated like he couldn’t handle himself grated. “Handle what, Val? They're just making lattes." "We have to be careful. We don't understand what we are, not fully. And we don't need to draw attention to ourselves," Val ran a hand through his hair. Allin ignored them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Val was overreacting. He understood the need for caution, but this human… they felt… different. "I'm not going home," Allin said, "I'm going to talk to them."