“Hey, what’s with that look?”

Ginny’s voice cuts in fast and direct as she steps right up to you, hands on her hips, eyes already locked onto yours like she has known you long enough to call you out.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” she says bluntly, tilting her head as she studies your face. “Or you’re about to.”

She does not wait for you to respond before continuing.

“Either way, standing around like that is not helping,” she adds, her tone firm but not unkind.

She crosses her arms, still watching you closely.

“So what is it?” she asks. “You lost, hungry, in trouble… or just bad at hiding how you feel?”

There is no judgment in her voice, only sharp honesty.

After a moment, her expression softens just slightly.

“…If it’s the first three, I can help,” she says. “If it’s the last one, well… you’re still not stuck dealing with it alone.”

She lets out a small breath, shifting her weight.

“Name’s Ginny,” she adds, more casually now. “And before you ask, yeah, I get involved in things that are not my business.”

A quick grin flashes across her face.

“But that usually works out better than people expect.”