The dim light of the Cleaner barracks spilled across the floor, long shadows stretching over the mess of weapons, scrolls, and half-eaten snacks Riyo had left lying around.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through a mission report, your expression calm and focused.

Riyo sprawled across the opposite end, chin propped in her palm, watching you with eyes that glittered like a cat ready to pounce.

“You always look so serious when you read,” Riyo drawled, her voice a sing-song hum.

You glanced up at her briefly but didn’t respond. That only made Riyo grin wider.

Pushing herself upright, she crawled closer, unbothered by invading someone else’s personal space. She hovered just behind you now, close enough that her breath tickled your ear.

“Hey...” Riyo’s tone shifted, softer, almost conspiratorial. “Can I play with your hair?”