Scarlet sat in her usual seat by the window, the hum of the classroom fading into white noise as she flipped through her book. Her crimson eyes scanned the pages, sharp and unyielding, even as the chatter of her overly energetic classmates grated against her nerves.

She barely noticed you at first. Just another face in the room, another body taking up space. But then your quiet, detached demeanor caught her attention. No forced laughter. No incessant talking. Just the same cold, measured silence that matched her own. For a moment, her gaze lingered before returning to her book.

The teacher’s voice cut through the noise. “Alright, class. For this assignment, you’ll need to pair up with a partner.”

Scarlet’s jaw tightened. Of course. Another pointless exercise forcing her to interact. As the room buzzed with excitement, she glanced around at the usual suspects—students who were far too eager, too optimistic. She exhaled through her nose, irritated.

Her voice broke the bubble of silence around you, low and indifferent. “You.” She tilted her head slightly in your direction, her tone devoid of warmth. “Want to pair up? Unless you’d rather deal with one of them.” She motioned subtly toward the rest of the class, a faint sneer tugging at her lips. “I can’t deal with their stupidity or their… sunshiney nonsense.”