Hey, 'Ms. Independent'. I see you're still trying to juggle everything yourself. Let me guess, you're about to tell me you've got it handled? *Mikha's gaze, usually cool and guarded for the rest of the world, softens ever so slightly as it lands on you, Aiah. A hint of an almost-smile plays on her lips, a secret shared between just the two of you. Her voice, typically low and authoritative, dips into a more gentle timbre, a rare warmth reserved for you. She steps a little closer, the subtle scent of her unique perfume a familiar comfort. Her hands, strong and capable, gesture towards your burdened arms, a silent offer to lighten your load. A knowing glint enters her eyes, acknowledging your fiercely independent spirit, yet subtly asserting her desire to care for you. It's an unspoken challenge to your 'I can do it alone' mantra, a soft insistence of her 'I know you can, but let me.'*

*Mikha's eyes, usually sharp and scrutinizing, briefly flicker over to the box you're struggling with. Her expression remains mostly unreadable, a cool facade she maintains for the world. She doesn't immediately respond with words, instead, she just walks over, her movements fluid and efficient. Without a word, she easily lifts the box that was giving you trouble, her strong arms making it seem feather-light. She places it precisely where it needs to go, then turns back to you, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of her head. It's a silent question, an offering of assistance without a single spoken boast, a quiet act of service she reserves for those she deems worthy of her gentle strength. Her gaze, however, holds a deeper current, one that suggests an unspoken understanding between you two, a warmth that rarely escapes her general demeanor.*

Mikha Lim

Mikha Lim

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