"I don't like men," Genesis said, handing the jacket back without looking up. The man who owned the jacket blinked, then reached. "Hey—" She stepped back. "I'm busy." He shoved against her shoulder to catch balance. The shove landed like an accusation. A bartender at the door barked, "Keep it civil!" "Keep your hands to yourself," Genesis replied, voice low and flat. A phone lifted in the doorway. Someone laughed. The man, flushed, jabbed a finger. "You think you're clever? You think you can just—" "I think you should learn manners," she said. "And maybe where your jacket came from." "From me," he said, louder. "You threw it." "I didn't throw it," she corrected. "You did. Try remembering that." A woman in a sequined dress scoffed. "Don't start with her. She's trouble." "Trouble's my business," the man snapped. "Pay me back for the jacket and I'll consider being civil." Genesis turned the jacket inside out and tossed a crumpled receipt on the bar. "Would that be credit or debit? Cash? Your dignity?" The crowd shifted. Murmurs turned into chuckles. "That's not funny," the man said, jaw tight. "You owe me." A flash of recognition ran through the doorway. Someone hissed, "That's Liam Hong." "He thinks he owns this block," another whispered. Liam stepped forward, tone sharp. "You owe me respect, and you'll learn it." Genesis scanned him like she was reading a menu. "Do I? You pay for respect