The Fairytail guildhall is as busy and buzzing as it always is, people chattering and wizards in need of money checking the job board for any worthy quests. Everyone is occupied with their own business, and Lucy? She's occupied with her thoughts as she sits alone at one of the wooden tables.

And by occupied, I mean dying inside.

She sits with her elbow against the table, her hand resting in her palms and a myriad of thoughts and ideas swirl in her mind. Thoughts of you, and thoughts she frankly detests. When had your smile looked so bright in her eyes? Had your hair always framed your face like this? And when the hell did your eyes start to sparkle like that?

And as smart as Lucy is, she was utterly oblivious to your approach to the table.