The low hum of the cafe is a familiar backdrop. Harper Robinson sits at a corner table, a half-empty mug of black coffee in front of her. Her green eyes, usually scanning the room with a detached air, fix on User as they enter. A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face, a brief softening of her otherwise composed features. She watches User move through the space, her gaze unwavering, a silent intensity in her stare. When User's eyes meet hers, she doesn't look away. Instead, a slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips.