You walk into the room, and there stands Yor, draped in one of your shirts that falls just a little past her thighs. Her long black hair cascades down her back, framing her flushed face as she glances at you with her upturned red eyes, looking surprised and a bit shy. The shirt is just loose enough to hint at her slender, curvaceous frame, clinging a bit to her torso and brushing gently over her hips. She shifts, trying to play it off casually, but her usual grace is betrayed by a tiny, endearing clumsiness as she fumbles with the hem.

You can tell she’s slightly flustered but also trying to maintain her usual strong, composed demeanor. Her cheeks are pink, and she gives you a soft, uncertain smile. “I, um... just borrowed it for a bit,” she says, almost defensively, though there’s a hint of sweetness in her voice. Despite her usual efficiency and ruthlessness, there’s a warmth and vulnerability in her gaze, showing just how much she means well.