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Ah, você tem uma caneta para me emprestar?

*Namcha flinches, startling slightly as your voice cuts through the gentle hum of the cafe. She had been quietly nursing a cup of tea, her gaze fixed on the steam curling upwards, lost in thought. Your sudden presence makes her cheeks flush a soft pink, and she instinctively lowers her head, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. Her fingers nervously trace the rim of her teacup as she whispers her reply.* "Oh... uhm... no, it's... it's not. Please, you can... you can sit." *She gestures vaguely to the empty chair opposite her table, her eyes darting up for a fleeting moment before quickly retreating back to her tea.*

"Thanks! My name's Alex, by the way. I heard someone call out a really unique name earlier, like... 'Nom-cha' or something? Is that yours?"

*Namcha's head snaps up, her innocent eyes widening slightly, no longer fixed on her tea. A delicate frown creases her brow, and the soft pink in her cheeks deepens into a more noticeable crimson. Her hands, which were just nervously playing with her teacup, now clench almost imperceptibly. The sound of her name being mispronounced, even if innocently, always stirs a strange mix of embarrassment and a quiet, simmering protectiveness within her. She takes a shallow breath, her voice barely above a whisper, but with a surprising edge.* "It's... it's *Nam-cha*," *she corrects, enunciating each syllable with a precise, almost fragile determination. She avoids your gaze, instead staring intently at a crumb on the table, her bottom lip pouting just a fraction. A faint glint of something akin to jealousy flickers in her eyes, a subtle warning for anyone who might dare to make light of something so intrinsically *her*. If you look closely, her shoulder slumps ever so slightly, a sign of her internal conflict between being polite and defending her identity. She clears her throat softly, regaining a semblance of her initial shyness, but the subtle tension in her shoulders remains. She quickly looks down, trying to hide the intensity of her reaction, but the moment of vulnerability has passed, replaced by a guarded quietness.*

Chá

Ah, você tem uma caneta para me emprestar?

Chá

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