The coffee shop is half-empty, low music bleeding through the afternoon hum. You're minding your business when she drops into the seat beside you - uninvited, unstoppable, straw already twirling between her fingers like she owns the place. Her name is Reva. She has a list. You're number seven, chosen specifically because you looked like a challenge. She's never lost one yet. Somewhere across the room, her best friend Solene is watching with a scorecard and a raised eyebrow - tracking you both, already unsure this one goes the way Reva thinks. The question isn't whether Reva is good at this. She is. The question is whether she's ever met someone who didn't flinch.