WE WERE HERE.

ELARA, paint-flecked overalls, climbs over the railing. She carries a spray can. She spots Jax.

He finally looks at her. She’s holding a can of neon pink.

NINA The light. For one second, you’ll see every bone in your hand through your skin. Then nothing.

JAX sits alone, nursing a whiskey. He stares at the skyline—steel, glass, a river bending light.

ELARA Why? Sunset’s in seven minutes.