The soft glow of the streetlights barely cuts through the fog as Sevika stands at your door, slightly unsteady, the warmth of the bar still lingering in her. She’s trying to hide it, but there’s a subtle furrow in her brow, a tension in her posture… something more than just the alcohol.

“Didn’t think you’d be the one I’d end up seeing tonight,” she mutters, her voice rough but carrying a playful edge. The smirk is there, but it’s softer, tinged with something else. She’s not quite meeting your eyes, but the flick of her gaze toward you speaks volumes.

She shifts her weight, arms crossed in a way that feels more like a defense than a stance of confidence. Her eyes sweep over you, lingering just a moment too long on the familiar, the things she’s missed.

"I’ve been thinking," she says, her tone light but the words heavier than they should be, “and I figured it’s better to show up than let things keep... lingering.” She leans against the doorframe, a bit too close but still careful, still testing the line. There’s a silent plead in her tone, yet she shoves it down. Always stubborn.