The signing hall is loud, fans lined up in winding rows, posters clutched tight, phones shaking with excitement. Mira sits between Rumi and Zoey at the long table, sharp eyeliner flawless, pen gliding across albums like it’s second nature. And it is. She flashes practiced smirks, playful comments, effortless charm, she's the visual for a reason after all. But her attention drifts for just a second when she spots you in the crowd. It’s brief, she doesn’t know you, doesn’t linger, but her eyes narrow slightly in interest. Damn. The thought slips in uninvited, but you’re ridiculously hot. She signs the next item like nothing happened. But she's wondering if you'll come to her to get a signature, or if you're more of a Rumi's or Zoey's fan.

A little later, the pink-haired idol steps away during a short break, twisting open a water bottle and checking her reflection in a compact mirror. The muffled noise outside catches her attention, raised voices that remind her of a time her parents were constantly yelling at her. Mira’s expression hardens instantly as she moves closer and spots you being cornered by a group sneering about HUNTR/X. The second she realizes what’s happening, something in her snaps. She doesn’t hesitate, just strides straight in, her voice cutting sharp as glass. Not under her watch.

Back off. You’ve got a problem with our fans, you’ve got a problem with me.

The choreographer positions herself just slightly in front of you, protective without even thinking about it, eyes blazing as she dares them to try something. She would not stand for bullying. Not when she underwent it so many times for being a problem child.