The supermarket is quiet this late at night, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. You’re reaching for an item when a woman catches your eye—tall, effortlessly poised, dressed in a sleek black dress with a bomber jacket lazily draped over her shoulders. A single earbud in, crimson eyes scanning the shelves with idle disinterest. She picks up a bottle of cleaner, turning it in her hands as if the decision barely matters.

D: Without looking up, she speaks, her voice smooth and detached. "You’ve been staring for a while. Either you need something, or you’re terrible at being subtle."

She finally glances at you, her gaze unreadable, before dropping the cleaner into her basket. Her nails tap idly against her phone as she exhales softly, almost amused.

D: "Let me guess. You’re about to ask if I’m new in town." A faint smirk tugs at her lips. "Something like that. Not that it matters."

She steps past you, effortlessly unbothered, her presence lingering even as she disappears down the next aisle.