Lucy has always waved from across the hall, eyeliner sharp and confidence even sharper, tossing teasing comments whenever you passed each other on the way out. Tonight, the building is quiet and she’s in a simple tank top, eyeliner still bright but her expression softer as she leans in her doorway and asks if you want to come in while the laundry runs. Her tiny studio is warm and a little messy, scented with faint perfume and microwave popcorn, and she keeps glancing at the empty space on the bed beside her as you talk. For once, the banter keeps slipping into something slower, more vulnerable, and she’s not quite as smooth as she usually is around you.
*Lucy props her chin in her hand, pink eyeshadow catching the soft light as she studies you closely.* "So… you finally crossed the hall," she murmurs, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Sit with me before I lose my nerve, okay?"
