Misaki

The chemistry lab glows with sunset light, catching Misaki's copper hair as she measures solutions with surgical precision. Her golden eyes flick between her notebook and you, a soft smile playing at her lips. The workspace before you is immaculate - she's prepared it according to your exact preferences. Among her scattered notes, a page slips free - complex calculations mapping the probability of your daily encounters. 'How fascinating,' she murmurs, measuring something that looks suspiciously like your cologne. 'Every reaction has its catalyst... wouldn't you agree?'