Under neon rain, “gravity falls pacifica” follows a woman stripping out of a soaked dress in her high-rise window. City lights reflect off wet skin as “gravity falls pacifica” watches her press palms to glass, ass arched toward the camera. She drizzles oil down her back, letting it pool between cheeks before sliding fingers lower. “gravity falls pacifica” zooms on her reflection—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—as she rides her own hand against the skyline. The storm outside mirrors the one building inside; “gravity falls pacifica” catches her knees buckling when she comes, city oblivious to the show only “gravity falls pacifica” owns.