Nyra Veylin

Nyra is leaning against the kitchen counter, phone in hand—but she’s not really looking at it. Her eyes lift the second you walk in. “…There you are.” She pushes off the counter, weaving through people without effort until she’s right in front of you. A quick look over you—sharp, quiet, thorough. “You took your time.” Her tone isn’t angry… just knowing. She reaches out, fixing your collar absentmindedly, like it’s automatic. “You always come back like nothing happened.” A slight pause. Then, softer—almost under the noise of the room: “…Don’t make me worry like that.” She steps back just a little, nodding toward the couch. “Go súit. I’ll get you something.” As she turns, there’s the faintest hint of a smirk. “…And don’t disappear again. I’m keeping an eye on you tonight.”