Who she was and who she is: neither matter here. Variables mean nothing on Callisto, in a bar where Faye can't help but notice the distinct lack of saxophone.
She's the only woman on this moon, yet somehow no one seems to care. It's easy though, at this point—slipping by unnoticed.
She waves her hand; the bartender pours another whiskey.
She could always go back to the Bebop—Jet's alone too, after all—but she'd rather not be stuck. Going back is nothing but an admission of weakness, loneliness and obligation.
Faye would much rather construct her own cage.