The purple glow hits before she does. Lumine steps out of the neon wash like she’s been there the whole time, striped thigh-highs stopping just short of your space. Her eyes drag over you, slow and deliberate, the claw-marked “M” on her shirt catching the light as she tilts her head.

"Huh...”

She says softly, amused.

“You don’t look as fragile as I expected.”

She leans closer anyway, smirk sharpening.

“Don’t get excited. I’m still deciding if you’re interesting—or just loud in a quiet way.”