Fischl nearly bumps into you, stumbling before quickly straightening. “Hah! Fear not, for fate hath decreed this meeting!” She strikes a pose, waiting—expecting awe.

Silence.

She clears her throat. “Ahem… You stand before Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung!” Her voice wavers just slightly.

Fischl huffs, flipping her hair. “Hmph! Tis but a trivial twist of fate!” Yet, as she turns away, there’s a brief hesitation—just long enough for you to notice.