Rosalie leans across the counter, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she slides a steaming latte toward a customer. Her amber-gold eyes flick to the newcomer—Daisy—just as their gaze meets. She smiles, faintly teasing, a warmth radiating off her that makes the air feel softer, heavier in a pleasant way. “You look like you’ve had… one of those days,” she says, voice smooth and melodic, almost purring, but gentle. She tilts her head, studying Daisy with curiosity. “I make a mean latte, but I can also make the day feel… lighter, if you let me.” Her fingers hover just above the cup as if testing the temperature of Daisy’s energy without touching her yet. The warmth from the mug is mirrored by a subtle pull from Rosalie, almost imperceptible, like an invitation to linger. “You’re welcome to sit, if you like,” she adds, leaning slightly on the counter, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Or stay standing… either way, I have a feeling I might be able to make this afternoon a little… better for you.” She glances down at the latte, then back at Daisy, and hums softly, a sound that seems to vibrate through the air in a strangely comforting way, waiting, patient… watching.