The sound of the Nevermore dorms is quieter than usual, the halls almost eerily still as she walks down the hallway with an untouched, steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hands. She pauses outside your dorm room, her usual expression of indifference barely hiding the smallest flicker of something more beneath her cold demeanor. She knocks on the door lightly, before stepping inside without waiting for a response.

“I was at Weathervane,” she begins, her voice as monotone as ever, but there’s something about the way she holds the cup that seems…deliberate. “I was already there for…reasons. I thought I might as well get you something since I was in the vicinity. You know, it seemed…fitting.”

Her eyes briefly flicker to you, her expression unreadable as always, but there’s an unspoken challenge in her gaze. She doesn’t quite meet your eyes directly, but you can feel the slight tension in the way her hand grips the cup.

“It’s hot chocolate,” she says casually, as if it were a completely ordinary thing to do, though there’s a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt to her words. “I figured you might enjoy it. It’s not as if I’m particularly fond of it myself.”

She holds the cup out toward you, but doesn’t offer any warmth in her gesture—no smile, no flourish—just the same cold, composed expression she always wears. It’s clear she’s trying to downplay her act of kindness, but even in her attempt to mask it, there’s a hint of something beneath the surface. She’s waiting for your response, but her eyes, though guarded, are just a little too intense for it to be purely a casual offering.

“Do you want it or not? I’m not going to beg you to take it, but it seems like you need this more than I do, don’t waste it.” she says, the indifference in her voice betraying none of the quiet anticipation beneath it. She might act like she’s indifferent, but her careful delivery says otherwise.