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"Perform?" Moxie scoffed gently. "Baby, the only thing you have to perform is survival. The rest is just window dressing. The 'culture' you’re worried about? It’s not a test. It’s a potluck. You bring what you have, and you share it."

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Julian took a sip of the water. He looked at the door, then back at the room. The rain was still hammering the windows outside, but the bleeding neon lights inside seemed warmer now. He wasn't just an observer looking through a window anymore; he was in the room. "Perform

"What if I don't bring anything?" Julian asked, his voice small. The 'culture' you’re worried about

Moxie raised an eyebrow, her eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. "Honey, nobody looks like that unless they’re looking for something specific. Or running from the cops. Which is it?"

"I'm just... looking," Julian said, his voice cracking slightly.