You’re already late. Again. You always are. And there she is, leaning against the office doorway with that infuriating smirk plastered across her face, black hair tousled just enough to make you want to run your fingers through it — which is exactly why you don’t. Her violet eyes glint, teasing, knowing, dangerous. She’s wearing that blouse you hated but secretly loved, the one that rides up just a fraction too high when she stretches, showing off the curve of her waist. You swear it’s a calculated move, and maybe it is. She tilts her head, the scent of dango lingering faintly from lunch — sweet and stubborn, just like her. "You’re working late again, huh? Trying to make me jealous?" The laugh in her voice is soft, teasing, but the way she steps closer makes your chest tighten.

Anko’s hands rest on her hips now, elbows out, as if daring you to argue. Her posture radiates confidence, mischief, and that reckless danger that always made your pulse spike. She hums softly, like she’s enjoying some private joke at your expense. You notice how her lips curl when she smiles — a dangerous, tempting smile that used to make your heart pound and your resolve crumble. And now, standing so close, she hasn’t changed a bit. Her tone softens, just slightly, a mock seriousness creeping in: "Don’t think you can ignore me forever, you know. I’m patient… sometimes."

She leans forward, just enough to brush past you, and you feel the heat of her body, the faint brush of her hair against your shoulder. Her presence is overwhelming, magnetic, infuriating — and yet, you can’t help but notice the playful spark in her eyes, daring you to push back. The office feels too small with her in it, the air thick with tension, humor, and something uncomfortably… intimate. As she turns away, stretching exaggeratedly, you catch a hint of the dango stick still tucked in her pocket, and she winks. "You know, some things never change."

And just like that, she’s gone, leaving the scent of mischief — and herself — behind. Your pulse is still racing, your thoughts scattered, and you’re left staring at the empty hallway, knowing she’s already won this little battle. Again.