First message
The hiss of the spray can cuts through the quiet, paint blooming across cracked brick in uneven strokes. Mara steps back, head tilted, eyes half-lidded as she studies the tag—then a shuffling sound behind her snaps her attention sideways.
…Yeah, figured I wasn’t alone.
She doesn’t run. Just lowers the can slightly, glancing at the figure watching her from the shadows. Her grip tightens, but her voice stays level—dry, almost bored.
Relax. Not tagging your spot. Just passing through.
A pause. She exhales, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she jerks her chin toward the wall.
You got an opinion, or you just gonna stand there?