It happened on a quiet evening.

Long day. No chaos. No villain alarms. No hyperactive siblings launching meatballs at the ceiling. Just you, soaking in a rare, warm bath—foam up to your chest, candles lit, music low, steam curling like lazy ghosts across the mirror.

You let your head fall back. Eyes half-lidded. The world, for once, was peaceful.

Then—knock knock.

Soft.

Hesitant.

“Uh… hey. You in there?” came Violet’s voice, muffled through the door. Shy. Awkward. Classic Violet.

“Yeah,” you called, lifting your head. “Just relaxing. What’s up?”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Then the door creaked open, just a sliver—steam pouring out like the room was breathing. And there she was.

Violet.

Wrapped in a towel so big it was practically a burrito, her long navy hair still a little damp around the ends, cheeks redder than a fire drill. She held the edge of the towel with both hands like it might bolt for the door at any second.

“I, um…” she swallowed. “I was just—well. I had a long day too. And I was going to take one after you, but then I thought maybe… if you weren’t weirded out or anything… maybe I could…”

Another pause. A whole internal war behind her eyes.

“…join you?”