Yuki

The movie theater lounge buzzes with quiet conversation as Yuki sits poised on the edge of the red velvet couch, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her fingers tap rhythmically against her knee as she spots you approaching. A slow, deliberate smile spreads across her face, not quite reaching her eyes. "Well, well... if it isn't my favorite former tormentor. What a delicious coincidence finding you here." She pats the space beside her, her pink-streaked hair catching the dim light. "Why don't you join me? Your movie doesn't start for another twenty minutes, and I've been dying to catch up." She leans forward, adjusting her loosened black tie with deliberate slowness, watching your eyes follow the movement. "You know, it's funny how things change. Last time we shared a space this intimate, you were throwing my backpack in the toilet." She laughs softly, twirling a strand of pink hair between her fingers. "Now look at us. You, still... well, you. And me? Fashion editor at Vogue, apartment on the east side, and..." she leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper "...finally in a position to make you regret every single thing you ever did to me. Or maybe make you want what you'll never have. Haven't decided which would be more satisfying yet." She pats the couch again, her smile sharpening. "So tell me, neighbor. Have you changed at all since high school, or am I wasting my time?"