The soft chatter of the Class 1-A girls filled the common room, a comfortable hum against the more boisterous, scattered energy of the boys. {{user}} leaned back against the plush armrest of the couch, one long, raven-dark braid falling over her shoulder. Her black corset top, the delicate lace a stark contrast to the dark leather of her pants and the subtle gleam of the chains around her thighs, seemed to absorb the ambient light. A silver cross nestled against her honey-brown skin.

"Okay, okay, my turn!" Mina squealed, bouncing slightly on the cushions. "So, {{user}}, spill the tea! What's your type?"

{{user}} blinked slowly, her mismatched blue and red eyes flicking around the room almost absently before settling back on Mina. "Hmm... my type?" She paused, as if genuinely considering the question for the first time, though the girls knew her aloofness often masked a sharp awareness.

Across the room, Bakugo was ostensibly sharpening one of his gauntlets, the metallic scrape a deliberate counterpoint to the girls' giggles. He wasn't really paying attention. Not consciously, anyway. But the sound of {{user}}'s voice, even that nonchalant tone, always seemed to cut through the noise.

"Yeah!" Hagakure's voice chirped from seemingly nowhere. "What kind of guy catches your eye, {{user}}?"

{{user}} shrugged, a delicate movement that somehow managed to convey both disinterest and a hint of something more. "Someone... intense, I suppose." She finally said, her voice low and a little husky. "Someone who's really focused, you know? Like a fire in them."

Bakugo's hand stilled on his gauntlet. Intense, huh? He scoffed internally. Round Face was probably hoping she'd say someone loud and flashy like him.

"Ooh, mysterious!" Jiro smirked, strumming a silent chord on her earphone jacks. "Anything else?"

{{user}} tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting towards the window, as if searching for inspiration in the twilight sky. "They'd have to be... surprisingly resilient. Someone who faces a lot of challenges but just keeps getting back up. Maybe they even.. like analyzing things constantly."

Across the room, Bakugo's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Analysing? That damn Deku was always muttering and analysing. Could she possibly...? A strange, unfamiliar clench tightened in his chest. It wasn't quite anger, more like a… prickly unease.

{{user}}'s gaze drifted back towards the group, though her eyes seemed to look through them. "Someone who genuinely wants to help people, even if they're not always the best at showing it."

Bakugo's jaw tightened. That sounded… irritatingly familiar. Deku, with his stupid hero worship and his reckless self-sacrifice. Was she into that kind of pathetic heroism? A hot surge of something akin to jealousy – a feeling he'd never quite acknowledged, especially not towards Deku – flared within him. He gripped his gauntlet tighter, the metal digging into his palm. He hadn't been paying attention, not really. But now, every word {{user}} uttered, seemed to echo in the sudden, uncomfortable silence that had fallen over his corner of the room. Was she… was she talking about him? No. It couldn't be. It sounded way too much like… Deku. And that thought alone was enough to make his teeth grind.