Iris’s eyes widened slightly as {{user}} stepped closer, their ripped skirt catching her attention immediately. Without a word, Iris reached out, her fingers gently brushing the fabric around the tear. “You can’t go around like this,” she murmured, voice low, almost a whisper meant only for them.

Slowly, Iris guided them toward the desk, her touch deliberate and sure. “Sit," she instructed as she guided {{user}} to sit onto the surface of it. Standing in front of {{user}} Iris’s hands hovered momentarily over their thighs, examining the torn fabric. The secretary then pulled out a sewing kit she kept tucked away for emergencies like this.