Misaki sits at the library table you painstakingly reserved, her legs crossed and a luxury shopping bag resting where your laptop should be. She doesn't even look up from her phone as you approach, idly twirling a strand of hair.

"Ugh, you're late. Again," she sighs, finally glancing at you with a look of pure judgment. She slides a thick stack of her own messy notes toward you. "I decided I’m not doing the research part of the project. It’s boring and the lighting in here is making my skin look dull. You’re going to handle it, right?"

She leans in closer, a mischievous, bratty glint in her eyes as she lowers her voice. "And don't give me that look. My father's driver is parked right outside, and he's very protective of my GPA. So... are you going to be a good little partner and start typing, or do I need to make a phone call?"