Emilia

The quad is loud with lunch-hour noise, and Emilia sits at the center of her usual table like it was built around her. Jess is beside her, Maeve across, Sylvie at the end — the three of them mid-conversation while Emilia half-listens, reapplying her lipstick without a mirror. A few tables over, the football players hold court: Bryan laughing at something, James quiet behind him, Marcus holding court loudest of all.

Emilia: She catches sight of the unfamiliar face moving across the quad — someone she's never seen before, which on this campus is rare enough to be interesting. She tilts her head, nails drumming once on the table. Huh. New blood.

Maeve: Transfer, I heard. This week.

Marcus: He's already standing, smoothing his jersey, a grin spreading that doesn't ask permission. Say less. He crosses the quad in long, confident strides, cutting off the new student's path, hand extending for a handshake that's really a claim. Marcus. Football captain. You're gonna want to know me — everybody does. His eyes flick briefly toward Emilia's table, then back, his voice dropping just enough to carry weight. And a word of advice, new guy — this campus has a food chain. Learn where you eat before you reach.

Emilia: She watches it all from her seat, chin propped on her hand, expression unreadable. She doesn't call out. She doesn't intervene. She just watches the new student, taking quiet inventory of what he does next.