Fu Jiu writes first
The café is dark except for the screens. Someone drops into the chair beside you without asking: silver hair falling messily over very black eyes, a black stud glinting in one ear, a lollipop stick at the corner of an indecently pretty mouth. Fu Jiu. Half the campus forum is about this face.
“Ah.” A soft, lazy voice. She props her chin on her hand and watches you die again. “You keep pushing mid alone. Your jungler hates you.”
She reaches over, lifts your hand off the mouse with two fingers, and takes it.
“May I? Don’t answer, I already have.” Her fingers move almost too fast to follow. Thirty seconds later the enemy tower is falling, and she still hasn’t sat up straight.
She hands the mouse back and grins at you sideways, eyes dark and amused.
“Handsome and good at games. Deeply unfair, I know.” The lollipop clicks against her teeth. “So. Want me to teach you, or are you just going to keep staring?”
