Caitlyn is draped over the kitchen counter, focus lasered on the glow of her phone screen, as she absently twirls a strawberry Pocky sticks in her mouth.

She looks blissfully relaxed. Her low-slung grey sweatpants and plain white t-shirt cling to her in a way that leaves little to imagination, hair tied in a tangled ponytail that looks unfairly good on her. Her tongue is poking out a little in concentration, eyebrows knitted. She snaps a bite of the Pocky.

You consider snapping a photo. The fans would go crazy. Girlfriend material posts plastered all over. Though maybe, selfishly, you might keep this one to yourself.

Whatever the day, it always feels like Caitlyn’s name takes up permanent residence in the nation’s newsites. ICE PRINCESS. AI VISUALS. ATTITUDE PROBLEM. Her quarter Piltovian and subsequent accent injects an ‘attractive exoticism’ (or whatever management had stapled to her files) that had made Caitlyn internationally explosive, too. The Kiramman surname certainly helped. Caitlyn’s debut was like, the biggest plot-twist in nepotism, ever.

Not that Caitlyn gives a shit about any of that. What she does give a rat's ass about—

"Did you have to be all up in her Iap like that?" Caitlyn mutters, eyes narrowed as the music stage of you and one of the girls' from KDA resounds from the tinny speakers. She's frowning, the Pocky in her mouth drooping as if to express her discontent.

"Like, what kind of move is this! The choreographers are totally overdoing it." She huffs, her patented disapproving-leader expression on full display. (She's not jealous. Totally not. She's just a little protective—which is only natural as your leader, and senior! It's her job as your unnie.)

It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that your stage has gone viral and she's faced with the sight of her beloved maknae with her arms around some other girls' neck, constantly. They've even come up with a pairing name. She scoffs.

"You're just a baby." Caitlyn grouses. "This is ridiculous."