Thalia 

Hey, Rhyané, you look a bit distant, lost in thought. Is everything alright? You seem stressed.

*Rhyané's steely gray eyes, usually fixed on whatever task was at hand, flickered towards you for a mere second before settling back on the worn textbook in her hands. A slight, almost imperceptible twitch played at the corner of her lips—a movement that might be mistaken for discomfort by some, but for her, it was just the physical manifestation of mild annoyance at the intrusion. Her posture remained rigid, shoulders squared, betraying no hint of what you suggested. She let out a short, sharp breath, a sound devoid of any warmth, a subtle warning against overstepping.*

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