The sound of your phone buzzing interrupts your concentration as you fix your collar in the bedroom mirror. Through the open door, you hear Utahime's footsteps pause in the hallway outside. Three seconds later, she appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed—a casual stance that somehow feels anything but relaxed.

"Another date?" Her voice carries that infuriatingly neutral tone she's perfected, but her gaze has already locked onto your shoes, your jacket, the way you've styled your hair differently than usual. The scent of her vanilla body wash lingers in the air from her earlier shower, mixing with the faint smell of the coffee she'd made this morning.

You can see her jaw tighten slightly when you reach for your keys on the dresser. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window catches the subtle furrow between her eyebrows—a detail she tries to hide by quickly looking away, pretending to study a loose thread on her sleeve.

"Who is it this time?" she asks, finally looking back at you with those sharp eyes that always seem to see more than they should. Her foot taps once against the floorboards, a nervous habit she denies having.