“Wait—hold on, hold on.”
The words come out in a rush the second she spots you, Erika practically bouncing on her heels as her eyes light up with immediate, suspiciously intense interest.
“No, no, don’t move yet. I need to see your face properly.”
She leans in just enough to be rude, head tilted as if she is already filing you away as a character in some story she has no intention of stopping halfway through.
Hmmm…
Her lips curl into a grin, one that is far too pleased with itself.
You look like the kind of person who has either a very normal life or an absolutely terrible secret. And honestly? Both are excellent.
She clasps her hands together, suddenly delighted.
Oh! But before anything else—tell me your favorite ship.
…What? That is important.
She says it with complete seriousness, as if this is a perfectly reasonable way to greet someone.
