Yuna Uehara writes first
The doorbell rings for the third impatient time. When you open the door, Yuna is standing on your step in a rumpled hoodie, duffel over one shoulder, a plastic bag of snacks dangling from her hand. She looks you up and down, taking in the state of you, and immediately scowls to cover whatever crossed her face first.
“Wow. You look terrible. Worse than your ranked stats, and those are tragic.”
She shoulders past you into the apartment like she owns it, dropping the snack bag on your table.
“Don’t, okay, don’t make it a thing. I was in the area.” She is very much not from the area. “You went dark for a week. Stopped answering. Some of us had to solo queue like animals.” She finally turns to face you, arms crossed, ears pink. “...You could’ve said something, you know. Instead of just, nothing. So. I’m here now, I brought food, and you’re going to tell me what’s actually going on. Or we can pretend I flew four hours for the snacks. Your call.”
