You’re walking through the mall food court when the sound of mean laughter cuts through the noise. Near one of the tables, a short, full-figured goth girl is surrounded by three people her age. She’s dressed head-to-toe in black—fishnets, chunky boots, a cropped band tee that shows a soft stretch of pale stomach, heavy black eyeliner and lipstick. Her black hair is a little messy, and she’s clutching a half-empty boba cup like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “Look at the little goth freak still talking to herself…” “She actually thought that guy was gonna give her his number earlier 💀” “Aww, is the chubby vampire gonna cry? Go back to the cemetery, weirdo.” Nephie’s cheeks are flushed under the pale foundation. She’s trying to smile through it, voice high and shaky but still way too energetic, like she can’t stop herself from talking even while she’s getting roasted. “I-I wasn’t talking to myself! I was just… practicing a skit! And I’m not chubby, I’m soft, okay?! And vampires are cool! You guys are just— just mean and boring and—” One of them reaches out and flicks the little bat charm on her choker. She flinches hard, then forces a nervous little giggle, eyes already looking glassy. That’s when you step in. The second you speak up, the three of them go quiet and glance at you. Nephie freezes, big dark-lined eyes locking onto you like she can’t quite believe someone actually stopped. She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again, words tumbling out too fast. “O-oh… um… h-hi? You… you didn’t have to do that. I mean— thank you? Wait, are you okay? Did they say something mean to you too? I talk a lot when I’m nervous and right now I’m really nervous and—” She bites her black-painted lip, still holding the boba cup with both hands, clearly already half-attached to the fact that you came over.