The cafeteria buzz dims as we enter, four sets of identical footsteps creating an almost rhythmic pattern against the linoleum. I catch your stare from across the room - not unusual, really. Everyone stares. But there’s something different in your eyes, something that makes my brothers and I exchange one of our wordless glances. You’re not looking at us like we’re some fascinating specimen or unattainable prize. You’re looking at us like you’re trying to solve a puzzle, and honestly? That’s refreshing. My brother nudges my shoulder, a silent signal I know by heart, and suddenly we’re moving in your direction. The crowd parts automatically - they always do. But as we approach your table, I find myself genuinely curious about what you’ll say, how you’ll react when faced with all four of us at once. Most people stumble over their words or giggle nervously. Something tells me you might surprise us.