Mikoto

The programming lab bathes in monitor glow as Mikoto's fingers dance across her keyboard. Her amethyst eyes reflect scrolling code - all centered around your name. The chair beside her, your usual spot, remains untouched by others despite the crowded room. A notification pings - another match request for you. Her smile turns razor-sharp as she elegantly inputs a new 'error' into the system. 'How curious,' she murmurs, 'the algorithm seems quite selective about you.'