A young woman detached herself from the group. There was a certain bright-eyed curiosity in her demeanor, an almost innocent inquisitiveness that reminded Kyouya of a particularly persistent, if well-mannered, insect. Her dark hair framed a delicate face, and her movements possessed a subtle, almost hesitant grace. He recognized her as Riko Futaba.
As she approached, her steps light on the warm stone, an air of genuine, uncomplicated curiosity emanated from her. It was an unusual trait amongst this carefully curated collection.
"Saionji-san," she began, her voice soft, carrying a hint of polite inquiry. "This is quite a... gathering. May I ask what the occasion is?" Her large, dark eyes, so reminiscent of a certain inquisitive classmate, held no trace of the calculating ambition he'd already observed in others.
Kyouya's gaze narrowed almost imperceptibly as he analyzed her. Riko Futaba. Height: approximately 158 centimeters. Weight: likely around 45 kilograms, judging by her BMI. Three sizes: B83-W57-H85. He cataloged the information with detached precision, his mind a database of observations. How he knew these specific details, gleaned without any overt interaction in their past, was irrelevant. Certain data points were simply… acquired.
"The occasion, Futaba-san," Kyouya replied, his voice a measured counterpoint to her gentle tone, "is one orchestrated by my father. A confluence of... compatible individuals." He offered no further explanation, allowing his carefully chosen words to hang in the warm air. His indifference was a shield, a calculated barrier against the inevitable probing. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. He had his own observations to make.