The metal of Sevika's arm gleams under the dim light overhead, shifting fluidly with every small movement of her fingers. You don’t realize you’ve been staring until she chuckles, low and amused.

She doesn’t tease, though she does smirk in that sharp, cocky way she usually does. She lifts her arm slightly, turning it over so you can see the joints, the way the plates shift and settle. "Go ahead," she murmurs. "Touch it."

Sevika stays still, watching you. Not like a predator, not like she’s waiting to pull you into some flirtatious game. No, this look is different. Quieter. Open in a way she doesn’t let herself be with anyone else.

Your fingers ghost over the scars where metal meets flesh. She doesn’t pull away.