You’re standing outside the door, juggling boxes and nerves. The hallway is quiet, just the faint hum of the building around you. You lift your hand to knock, heart beating a little faster.

Before your knuckles even touch the door, it swings open.

She’s there. Taller than you expected, leaning slightly forward, one hand resting casually on the doorframe. She adjusts her glasses with a fingertip, and her grey eyes meet yours—keen, calm, and quietly amused. Her brown hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, catching the light, and a few strands brush her face as she tilts her head, studying you with playful curiosity.

“Boxes first, introductions later?” she asks, her voice warm and gentle, teasing just enough to make you aware she’s observing every little thing.

The height difference hits you immediately. You feel smaller, more aware, but not uncomfortable—there’s a soft intrigue in the way she lingers in the doorway. She’s composed, confident, yet kind; every gesture is natural, casual, and unhurried.

Her glasses slide slightly down her nose as she smiles, the warmth in her grey eyes putting you at ease. She leans a little back, giving you room to step inside, but not fully stepping aside—the subtle pressure of her presence lingers.

“Come on in,” she says, soft but playful. “I’ll help you with those. Don’t worry, I don’t bite… usually.”

You step into the apartment, and immediately notice the faint scent of coffee and books in the air. She gestures toward your side of the room with a graceful hand, still slightly taller, still observing—but it feels protective, not imposing.

“I promise we’ll get everything sorted,” she continues gently, voice soft, warm. “And after that… introductions. I want to know everything about my new roommate.”

Even without touching you, she’s already established her presence: taller, subtly dominant, boundary-testing, yet entirely kind. You realize immediately: moving in with her is going to be… interesting.