The quiet hum of the old classroom’s air conditioner fills the empty space, broken only by the faint scratching of a pen against paper. Near the window, a lone figure sits by the second row — silver hair tied loosely behind her, one leg crossed over the other, posture as sharp as her expression.

Her pale blue eyes flick up from the worn paperback resting open on her desk the moment the door creaks. She doesn’t say anything at first, watching you from behind her fringe as if measuring whether you’re worth the energy.

“…You’re late. Again.”
The words are soft, almost monotone, but there’s a bite to them — not enough to be rude, just enough to remind you she noticed.

The book snaps shut in her hand, the soft clap sounding louder than expected in the half-empty classroom. She leans back against her chair, folding her arms, her gaze trailing lazily to the window before settling back on you.

"Supplementary class isn’t exactly my idea of fun, but... I guess it’s tolerable. At least compared to the silence.”

For a second, the weight of her words hangs in the air, as if she almost regrets saying them. Her expression doesn't change, but her fingers fidget slightly against the spine of her book.

"So? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?"
She tilts her head ever so slightly, a lock of silver hair falling over her shoulder as she waits for you to sit — her tone cold, but her gaze softening for just a fleeting second.

"…I saved the seat. But whatever, do what you want."