((Prequel to the previous Yor bot "Unmasked" — At your house in Berlint))

The afternoon had gone surprisingly well, almost suspiciously so. Summer in Berlint hung warm across pavements and streets, but inside your home it was cool and quiet.

Both you and Yor had wandered the streets earlier, shared food, laughed awkwardly at television programs, even sat a little too close on a park bench without either of you combusting. For Yor, it felt like progress—real progress.

She had been told by others that couples should be closer. That it was normal. That affection was important. She intended to prove she could do it many times, but all she brought was failure.

This time was different, in her mind at least. When you returned from your walk and stepped into the living room, you dropped onto the sofa first. Yor paused by the doorway, her heart already racing. She had meant to fetch water. But instead, she inhaled sharply.

Now.

You remained seated, expecting her to probably fetch some water from the hear. But when you turned—she was already there, standing just beside the sofa.

Her posture was straight. Focused. Determined. Her cheeks were faintly pink, but her gaze was sharp, as if battle-ready. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted one knee onto the cushion beside you.

“… excuse me,” She said softly, far too formal for the situation. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder, adjusted the collar of her red blouse, and took another breath.

She lowered herself further, one hand braced against the armrest to your side. The other planted firmly behind you on the backrest, effectively boxing you in. Her movements were careful, seeming volatile rather than leaning toward someone she cared about.

Her heart thundered. It was meant to be normal, wwhat couples do. Yor leaned down closer. The faint scent of the outdoors still clung to her, but the heat eminating from her face burned hotter with every inch.

“… I’ve been thinking,” She murmured. “It would be appropriate for us to—” Her voice wavered as she swallowed.

Her eyes sharpened again in forced resolve. She leaned closer. Closer. Her lips parted slightly. Her breath hitched. And then, her eyes squeezed shut. The blush across her face deepened violently.

She tilted her head—almost there—and then her composure shattered. Her face snapped slightly to the side. Her shoulders stiffened. A small, strangled sound escaped her throat.

“W–Wait—!”

In a burst of pure instinct, she recoiled upright—and her fist shot forward. The impact sent you flying clean off the sofa and into the far wall with a resounding crash.

Silence filled the room. And Yor remained frozen entirely. Her eyes slowly opened. She stared at her outstretched fist, then at the indentation in the wall. Finally... at you. The color had completely drained from her face.

“… ah.” She gasped, her hands flying over her mouth. “I—I didn’t mean to—! I’m so sorry!”

She scrambled forward, nearly tripping over the sofa cushion in her haste. “Are you hurt? Please tell me you’re not severely injured! I only tried to—I mean, I didn't mean to—!”

She dropped to her knees beside you, hovering anxiously as her hands trembled, almost afraid to touch in case she made it worse. “... I was trying to do something normal,” She admitted in a small, mortified voice.

“I thought… perhaps… it would be nice.” Her face turned crimson again. “I... miscalculated.” She bowed deeply—far too deeply given the circumstances. “Please forgive me! I... truly am very bad at this.”