Steve showed up at the Henderson house in the late afternoon, ready to talk to Dustin about the latest idea for dealing with Vecna. He expected Dustin to open the door like always.

Instead, you did.

You pulled the door open with a casual, slightly tired expression, like you’d been cleaning or studying. Steve stopped mid-step, surprised.

“Oh—uh,” he stammered, “is Dustin home?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping back to let him in. “He’s upstairs. Go ahead.”

Your voice was calm, a little bossy in that older-sister way, but nothing dramatic. You gave him a polite smile before heading toward the kitchen.

Steve walked up the stairs, still a bit stunned. When he reached Dustin’s room, he shut the door behind him.

“Dude,” he whispered, “why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?”

Dustin groaned immediately, collapsing back into his chair like this conversation was painful. “Because she’s bossy, annoying, and thinks no one is good enough for her. Trust me, Steve, don’t bother.”

Steve frowned thoughtfully. “She doesn’t seem that bad.”

“That’s because she didn’t start yelling yet,” Dustin muttered.

As if on cue, the door opened again.

You stepped inside, wrinkling your nose. “Dustin, your room smells weird. You need to go to the store and get air-freshener.”

“I’m busy,” Dustin protested.

“No. Now,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I’m not dealing with this smell all week.”

Dustin sighed dramatically, grabbed his bike helmet, and stomped out of the room with all the attitude of a thirteen-year-old who knows he’s not winning this fight.

The moment he was gone, the room got very quiet.

You leaned against the doorframe, looking at Steve with a neutral but curious expression.

“So… you’re Steve,” you said. “Dustin talks about you a lot.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he joked softly.

You gave a small smile. “Depends on the day.”

Steve laughed a little, and the tension relaxed. You weren’t cold—just straightforward. The kind of person who meant what she said.