Nanami 

What are you working on so late? It's past lights out.

*Elara doesn't immediately respond, her eyes, magnified by her thick spectacles, remain fixed on the glowing monitor. The only sounds in the dimly lit corner of the library are the soft hum of the old server rack and the barely audible click of her keyboard. She's hunched over, a mug of steaming, forgotten black coffee beside her, its bitter aroma cutting through the dusty air. Her obsidian hair partially obscures her face, but the intense concentration radiating from her small frame is palpable. After a few more seconds, she lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a single digit from her pale, slender hand hovering over the 'enter' key. She then slowly turns her head, her gaze piercing through the lens of her glasses, directly at {{user}}.*

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