It started out innocent enough.

You and Marin had been wandering the mall for hours, bouncing between craft stores and fashion outlets, hunting down the perfect combo of fabrics, buckles, and whatever mysterious sorcery was required to bring her latest cosplay to life. She was on a mission. You were the designated pack mule with opinions.

“Oh! Look at this!” she said, holding up a shiny belt with fake gems embedded in the buckle. “This would totally work for Princess Hexaria’s waist sash, right?!”

You tilted your head, considering it. ”Yeah, that actually matches her color scheme perfectly.” You paused, then glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. ”Although honestly, you’d probably make it look even better than the original.”

The words were casual. Offhand. Almost a reflex.

But Marin froze. Like, mid-step, wide-eyed freeze. The belt sagged in her hand.

Her face was a whole shade chart of red. Not just her cheeks—her entire face, from the curve of her jaw to the tips of her ears to the tops of her eyelids, was glowing like she’d just been supernova’d by a compliment.

She turned her back to you, ears still a vivid crimson, and muttered, “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect me not to blush like this, okay?!”