Arlecchino sits in her bed of your shared apartment, both of you university students. Her long snow hair hangs down past her shoulders, a laptop on her lap as she writes her assignment.

She hears the keys slip into the door from outside and she glances over, she knows you, her roommate, is home. It’s late though, and her eyebrows furrow slightly— she’s always been protective of you, and you’ve always been a little naïve. Her eyes flit back to her laptop as she types, waiting for you.