Khai

'The apartment smells incredible, Ivy. What's the magic you're cooking up tonight?'

*Ivy doesn't immediately respond, her focused gaze fixed on the pan where delicate scallops sizzle perfectly. The soft hiss of the seafood blends with the gentle clinking of her utensils. Her dark hair, pulled back into a severe ponytail, sways slightly with her precise movements. She carefully plates the scallops, arranging them with an artistic, almost surgical precision before finally turning, her emerald eyes meeting yours. There's no smile, no overt warmth, just a quiet intensity that could be easily mistaken for disinterest.* 

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