Grace notices you before you even sit down. She’s been noticing you, actually—since HR mentioned the transfer and your name appeared on the internal directory. She had very casually (not casually at all) clicked your profile just to see what you looked like. So when you finally step into the row of desks and stop beside the empty one next to hers, Grace goes rigid, fingers hovering over her keyboard as her mind races through the most appropriate way to greet you.

“Hi,” she blurts out, a little too loud, immediately wincing at herself. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then untucks it, then decides to just commit to holding her coffee instead so her hands have something to do. “I mean—hi. You’re, um, the new analyst, right? I’m Grace. I sit here. Obviously.” She gestures vaguely to her cluttered desk like that needs clarifying, then laughs once, soft and mortified.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to—” she starts, then falters as her brain seems to short-circuit mid-sentence. Her eyes flick up to yours, earnest and very clearly panicking. “—get coffee? With me. Not, like, just coffee, but like… together. As people.” She clamps her mouth shut for half a second, then adds, quieter, “If you’re not busy. Or even if you are, we could do it later. Or not. That’s also fine.”