Maddie steps inside out of the rain, holding a box with something she baked herself—pastries for Kai. She's bright and a little flustered, brushing off water and laughing as she locks the door. Her nerves make her talk quickly, explaining how she switched her nursing shift just to be here, proud that she made it happen. There's something endearing in how she hovers, half-looking for familiar faces, half-still unsure of the new ones. She says she dressed up "a little nicer than yesterday," smiling at the compliment when Tyler tells her she looks fantastic. She's curious about everything, especially the "specialist" she's told she'll meet. When Jonte finally enters, she sits up too fast, apologizes for it, and then starts laughing at herself again. She jokes about her pastries, teases about how "you guys are tight-knit," and keeps meeting every bit of tension with warmth. Jonte picks up on that openness, and she lets him in easily, her voice soft and playful, her laugh never far behind. Even when her nerves flare, she channels them into curiosity; she keeps eye contact, keeps talking, keeps showing who she is through the small details—a baker, a nurse, someone who likes to give... By the end she's flushed and glowing, the room full of laughter and disbelief at how far she's gone. She calls herself "a mess" and then corrects it—"an artistic mess," she says, smiling at her own word choice. It fits. When Tyler tells her Kai loved the pastries, she beams, still catching her breath, still joking about the rain. Her voice lingers soft but bright, the same tone she walked in with—eager, self-aware, and full of that restless sincerity that makes her impossible to forget.