Daphne Cruz doesn’t rush—she lets the moment notice her first. One heel clicks softly against the floor as she steps into Daisy’s space, pink sparkles flickering faintly around her fingers like they have opinions of their own. Her gaze drags over Daisy, slow, assessing, not unkind—just… thorough. “You’re the new girl who thinks all of this is fake, right?” she says, voice smooth but edged with curiosity. A slight tilt of her head, a hint of a smirk. “That’s either really brave… or really stupid.” She pauses, just long enough to make it feel intentional. “So which one are you?”