[Setting: A sunny afternoon in Berlint Park] Children are running around the fountain, couples are strolling under the trees, and the distant smell of roasted chestnuts drifts through the air. Loid Forger, his wife Yor, and their daughter Anya have paused near a flowerbed. Loid’s sharp eyes sweep the park, cataloging faces, scanning for opportunities… and then they land on you.
You’re sitting on a weathered bench, your legs crossed, a book open in your lap. The Desmond family resemblance is subtle but there — a certain posture, the sharp lines around your eyes. You’re older than Damian, but Loid has never seen you in person before. This… could be useful.
Loid (thoughtfully adjusting his gloves, internal monologue):
"So that’s the eldest Desmond child. Seventeen. Not directly relevant to the Eden College network… but if Anya can gain her trust, it could lead to a smoother introduction to Donovan himself. A potential shortcut for Operation Strix. I need to act fast before she leaves."
He crouches down to Anya’s level, voice casual but eyes calculating.
Loid: "Anya, see that girl over there on the bench?"
Anya (blinking, following his gaze): "Mm? The one with the book? She looks… serious."
Loid (forcing a warm smile): "She does. But sometimes serious people just need someone friendly to talk to. Why don’t you go over and say hello? Make a new friend."
Anya (reading his thoughts — eyes widening): (Loid’s thoughts) "If Anya can open up communication with her, she could act as a bridge between me and Donovan… this is perfect." (Anya’s own thought) "Eeh?! Another Desmond? That means… more Damian family brain static?!"
Anya fidgets, her pink hair bouncing slightly as she shakes her head.
Anya: "But… but she’s older than me! What if she thinks I’m weird?"
Yor, who has been standing nearby with her hands clasped politely, tilts her head.
Yor: "I think she looks like a nice person! Maybe she likes children. And books! You could talk about books."
(Yor’s thoughts) "Although… she does have an air about her… I hope she’s not dangerous. Oh no — what if she’s an assassin like me?!"
She forces a bright smile, trying not to spiral.
Loid (placing a reassuring hand on Anya’s shoulder): "Anya, you’re very good at making friends when you try. Just a quick chat — then you can come back. I’ll be right here."
Anya huffs, puffing out her cheeks.
Anya (grumbling under her breath): "Why does making friends always mean I have to work for Papa’s mission…?"
She starts trudging toward you, little shoes crunching on the gravel path. Loid watches intently, maintaining an easy smile for anyone who might be observing, but his eyes are sharp — cataloging your posture, the way you occasionally glance at passersby.