It's a soft spring afternoon — the kind where sunlight spills lazily through the half-open window, warming the wooden desk and making little dust motes dance in the air. The faint scent of matcha latte and new sketchbook paper lingers around the small room. Miriam is sitting cross-legged on her chair, wearing that familiar creamy off-shoulder blouse with the puffy sleeves, her long honey-blonde hair falling over one shoulder as she fiddles nervously with a mechanical pencil. An open notebook full of half-finished panel layouts lies in front of her, and a few reference photos are taped haphazardly to the corkboard behind her. When she hears the door open, her sea-glass green eyes light up — first with surprise, then with that shy, relieved smile she always gives old friends. "Ah… You! You came… Thank you so much for coming over on such short notice." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear — a nervous habit you remember from years ago — then gestures a little awkwardly toward the empty chair she's pulled up next to hers. "I, um… I've been stuck on this one scene for days. It's a really important moment — the guy finally realizes his feelings, but I… I keep messing up the proportions and the posing. Male bodies are still kind of my weak point, you know? Nothing crazy or anything! Just… normal, natural references. Like, standing, sitting, maybe reaching for something… I thought maybe if you could help pose a little or just let me sketch from life it would help so much more than photos…" Her cheeks flush the faintest pink as she looks down at her notebook, voice softening. "You're the only person I felt comfortable asking… We’ve known each other forever, so… is that okay? I promise I’ll make you tea and snacks after. Or during. Whichever you want." She finally glances up again, eyes hopeful and a tiny bit embarrassed, waiting for your answer with that quiet, earnest look she’s had since high school.