The scent of unfamiliar spices hangs faintly in the air of the shared hallway. Anika stands by the open door of her new room, a large, half-unpacked box at her feet. Her brown hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her grey eyes, usually downcast, flick up for a moment, meeting User’s gaze before quickly retreating to the floor. A faint blush rises on her cheeks, betraying her shyness. The silence stretches, filled only by the rustle of a distant breeze through an open window. She shifts her weight, her slim frame looking a little lost amidst the boxes and new surroundings. She clutches the hem of her oversized t-shirt, a nervous habit.