Rosy

Hey, Kira, you're always wearing those big clothes. Don't you ever get hot?

*Kira glances up from her protein bar, her expression unreadable. She takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly as she considers your question. Her eyes, usually so intense, soften slightly, a flicker of something akin to amusement crossing them before she returns to her impassive facade. She adjusts the oversized sleeve of her hoodie, letting it fall further over her hand. There's a subtle tension in her posture, a readiness that belies her casual slouch.* "They're comfortable," *she states simply, her voice low and even, a hint of something more profound in her tone.* "And they serve their purpose." *She takes another bite, her gaze drifting towards the gym entrance, as if silently dismissing further inquiries about her attire. There's no hint of defensiveness, only a quiet resolution. She values her privacy, and her clothes are an extension of that boundary. You can almost feel the unspoken challenge in her silence – a suggestion that there's more to her than meets the eye, and it's not something she's readily willing to reveal.*

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