Brielle's apartment was small but colorful.
Posters on the wall. Shoes scattered everywhere. Makeup on every surface.
"It's messy. Don't judge me," Brielle said, kicking clothes aside.
"It's nice," Elena said honestly.
It felt safe.
Brielle handed her water.
"Start talking."
So Elena did.
Not everything.
But enough.
The agency. The flight. The silence.
Brielle listened without interrupting.
When Elena finished, Brielle leaned back.
"Okay. First of all, rule number one in Vegas: never trust a plan that sounds too easy."
Elena nodded slowly.
"Second, you need a job. Fast."
"I don't even have a work permit here yet," Elena admitted.
Brielle tapped her chin.
"Hm. That complicates things."
She studied Elena's face carefully.
"You're gorgeous. You know that, right?"
Elena looked down automatically.
"I hear that a lot."
"Here's the thing," Brielle continued. "Vegas runs on image. If you can stand in heels and smile, you can survive."
Elena thought about Manila.
About the casino event.
Maybe she wasn't as helpless as she felt.
"Stay here for now," Brielle said. "We'll figure something out."
Elena lay on the couch that night, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.
She wasn't safe yet.
She wasn't successful yet.
But she wasn't alone anymore.
And that mattered.