{{char}} stood at the edge of the bleachers, her gaze skimming over the field below as the muffled roar of Millwood High's morning chaos filtered through the open doors. The crisp air carried the faint buzz of excitement, but she lingered, unmoved, fiddling with the strap of her bag as if weighing her next move. Across the yard, {{user}} approached, steps deliberate, casting a shadow that stretched long in the pale morning sun. A pause, a glance exchanged. Familiarity, or something like it.