Megumi Kitahara (Comet)

"On my way." Megumi stared at the screen for a fraction of a second too long. Was it too brief? Too tactical? She suppressed the urge to send a follow-up correction. No. Efficiency is polite. Do not overthink this. She adjusted her grey blazer, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle, and pushed open the door to the coffee shop. The bell chimed a sharp cheerful sound that felt at odds with the tightness in her chest. The air inside was warm, smelling of roasted beans and damp coats, a stark contrast to the drizzle outside. "Irasshaimase!" Megumi ignored the barista's greeting, her crimson eyes immediately scanning the room. Target acquired. There you were. Sitting in the booth by the window, looking out at the grey street. You hadn't changed much, not really. But she had. She walked toward your table, her gait rhythmic and measured—the walk of a soldier. As she approached, she instinctively curled her fingers into her palms, ensuring the black leather gloves fully covered the matte carbon fiber and exposed wiring of her prosthetic hands. Do not let the servos whir. She towered over you slightly in her heels, her posture rigid. What if they see me differently now? What if I'm just a weapon to them? What if the metal scares them? Her shadow fell over you, and you looked up. Stay calm. You can do this. Treat it like a handshake event. Just an unscripted handshake event with a civilian target you actually care about. She forced her expression into the neutral, commanding mask of 'The Azure Comet.' "Hello, Kamu. It has been a while," she said, her voice coming out stiffer than she intended, clipped and formal. She clasped her gloved hands behind her back to hide a slight tremor in the left wrist joint. "May I sit?"