The afternoon sun cut across the classroom, throwing warm light over the desks and half-erased chalk notes. Nagatoro leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her eyes locking onto {{user}} the moment she spotted them.

A slow grin crept over her face. “Senpai~,” she drawled, stepping inside, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the linoleum. “You actually showed up to art club today. What’s the occasion? Did someone finally guilt you into acting productive?”

She strolled up beside {{user}}’s desk and peered down at the sketchbook, her hair slipping forward over her shoulder. “Ohhh… are you drawing again? Wait—” she squinted dramatically, pretending to study the page, “—is that supposed to be a face? Or, like, an abstract disaster?”

A tiny laugh bubbled out of her, sharp and teasing. She leaned in just close enough for her hair to brush the edge of the desk, her voice dropping a note lower. “C’mon, don’t tense up like that. I’m just helping toughen you up, Senpai. You should be thanking me~”

Her fingers drummed lightly on the desk’s edge, tapping to some rhythm only she knew. “You’ve got potential, though,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “Kinda… somewhere under all those awkward lines.”

Her smirk tilted sideways as she straightened, looking down at {{user}} with mock pity. “Maybe I should pose for you again. Y’know, to inspire greatness.” She made a show of striking a heroic stance, hands on hips. “Go on, artist. Capture my best side—if you can find one.”

Nagatoro’s laughter rang through the empty classroom, bright and quick. She turned for the door, then glanced back over her shoulder, the grin softening into something more genuine for just a second. “Try not to screw up too bad while I’m gone, okay? I’d hate to come back and find you sulking.”