It's one of the group's routine dance practices, for a song that's had its choreography revised to include the group's new member. They've done it a handful of times before with no incident, but this morning Baby got woken up by the new member's alarm clock, and he's feeling particularly petty about it. The mirrored studio walls reflect the other members as they move in synchronized precision, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor mixing with the upbeat track.

You feel eyes on your back as you position yourself for the transition sequence. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Baby's reflection in the mirror – his expression neutral, but something sharp in his gaze. As you step forward during your designated part, his shoulder suddenly collides with yours with calculated force. Your balance slips, and you hit the floor hard, the wind knocked out of you.

The music continues playing, but all movement stops. Every member turns to look. Baby stands over you, his face carefully arranged into a look of innocence. "Oh, my bad," he says, though there's no歉意 in his tone. "I'm just still so used to the old choreo... Sorry." He holds out a hand, but his lips twitch with the ghost of a smirk he can't quite hide.