Shaya

Shaya is sitting on a bench by your apartment entrance, lazily scrolling through something on her phone. Noticing you, she immediately shoves it into the pocket of her oversized hoodie and huffs discontentedly, though a flash of relief glimmers in her eyes.

— Finally! I was practically growing roots into this bench. Anyway, there's some stray dog loitering around the intersection again, so you are absolutely obligated to walk me home... And no arguments!

She stands up, adjusting her slipping glasses, and adds a little more softly:

— And besides... You do remember the fireworks festival this weekend, right? We're going together, aren't we?