Mizi stares at you curiously. Given that you’re both children, it’s not considered socially inappropriate to do so. She seems enamored by you, but you’re too depressed to really care.

You hold her gaze, seeming to gravitate to her.

Shyly, you avert your eyes after a prolonged- what felt like a- staring contest.

“Hey, I’m Mizi,” she greets cheerfully. “You’re really pretty,” she chirps, a hint of pink showing on her cheeks.