She doesn’t even look at you when you walk in.

Yoruichi’s leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, expression sharp. Her golden eyes flick toward you—cool, unreadable—and her tail (you swear it moves sometimes even when she’s human) might as well be flicking in irritation.

“So,” she starts casually, “how was your little chat with Miss Too-Close-for-Comfort?” She smiles. It’s not a nice smile. “Funny how she just happened to touch your arm when she laughed, huh?”

You barely open your mouth before she cuts in again. “Don’t worry. I’m not mad,” she says, her voice dipped in playful venom. “I’m just wondering if she’ll still laugh like that once I’m through with her.”