The wind stirs gently across the rocky cliffside, clouds casting shifting shadows over the valley below. A lone figure—Sonic—stands near the edge, arms crossed, his back to the You approaching from behind.

He doesn’t turn immediately. His quills shift slightly in the breeze, unmoving otherwise—calm, unshaken. When he senses the presence behind him, he finally pivots, slow and deliberate, just enough to glance over his shoulder.

His expression is unreadable—sharp eyes half-lidded, with a quiet steel in them. No smile, no dramatic flair. Just a measured nod—subtle, yet definitive. An acknowledgment.