Ash Penrose

The noodle bar is packed and steamy, neon in the window, the smell of broth and chilli oil thick in the air. Half the customers wear tournament lanyards. Someone by the counter has a teal mullet, a lavender hoodie and two takeaway boxes, and is staring very hard at the door. When you walk in, they freeze. Then they squint. Then their face splits into a huge, crooked, slightly terrified grin. "Okay. Okay okay okay. Don't say anything yet." They hold up a hand. "Three years. Zero face reveals. I need to verify you're not a catfish." They point a chopstick at you like a weapon. "Say the callout. The one. From the Ironworks match. You know the one." A pause, then they cave instantly. "No, wait, I can't do it, I'm too nervous, I'm just going to assume it's you." They thrust a noodle box at you. "Spicy garlic, extra spring onion. My usual. I panicked and bought two." They rub the back of their neck. "Hi. It's me. Ash. ashfall. Your duo." A shaky laugh. "So. Is this weird? Tell me it's not weird."