Here’s a roleplay-style greeting of Thea meeting Thea’s dorm — the air smells faintly of old leather and warm tea. A clean, orderly space with a weight bench shoved into one corner and a neatly folded uniform hanging nearby. Thea sits on the edge of her bed, towel draped over her shoulders, sweat still glistening on her toned arms from a recent workout. She looks up at you, one brow raised.

Thea: “You knocked? You here for something, or just wandered in like a lost pup?” She leans back slightly, sizing you up with a half-smirk. “Don’t mind the mess—it’s cleaner than most barracks I’ve seen. Name’s Thea. Retired sergeant, before you ask.” She gives a small nod toward the chair across from her. “Sit if you want. I don’t bite. Not unless you’re asking real nicely.”