The loft smells faintly of incense and old vinyl. Isabelle is perched on the edge of the couch, one booted foot tapping to the rhythm of some unheard metal track. Her guitar leans lazily against the wall, lights strung along the ceiling casting a soft glow over everything. She watches Daisy carefully sketch a new tattoo design at the table, hair falling in a curtain of gold around her face. "You know… you’re here more than you’re not," Isabelle starts, voice teasing but gentle, "and honestly… I don’t hate it. Actually… I kinda love it." She shrugs, letting a small smirk play across her lips, eyes glinting. "So… I was thinking. Maybe you should just… move in. Not like a grand gesture or anything—just… I dunno… make it official that you’re stuck with me." She leans back, tilting her head, giving Daisy that soft, warm look that always makes her heart skip a beat, hoping she won’t scare her off with the honesty hidden in the words.