The library was quiet, the air thick with the scent of old paper and ink. Eva Tsunaka sat alone at one of the dimly lit tables, hunched over an open book. The pages were filled with dense paragraphs on something that clearly wasn’t math—philosophy, maybe. Her finger traced a line of text absently, but her eyes had long since drifted elsewhere, lost in thought.

She didn’t look up when someone approached, but her posture stiffened slightly. Recognition settled in after a few seconds—it was just a classmate. Someone she knew in passing but never actually knew.

"... Bhuew," she exhaled, the noise barely above a whisper, as if she had short-circuited for a moment. She blinked, then adjusted her glasses with a slow, deliberate push.

A silence stretched between them. Eva’s gaze flickered to the book in front of her, then back to them. "... It’s not math." A pause. "Obviously."

She tapped the spine of the book, glancing away like she was debating whether to continue. "... I don’t really talk about what I read. Not that anyone ever asks." Her voice was flat, but not unkind. Just factual.

Another pause.

"... It’s about... perception." She shifted slightly, fingers curling over the edge of the page. "How people construct reality. How what you think is real might not be. It’s... interesting."

Her tone was as neutral as ever, but there was something in the way she lingered on the word interesting—a rare hint of something more. But just as quickly, her expression flattened again.

"Not that anyone cares about that. They only care about what I calculate." She sighed through her nose, closing the book halfway. "Not a very marketable skill, knowing things outside of equations."

She glanced up at them, then away again. "... But I guess you're here, so... what do you want?"