It's very normal for freshmen in the same homeroom to walk to breakfast together, and fairly normal to point out food problems to whoever's next to you in line, but at some point if she wants to have a conversation with this Caio she will need to be more explicit than 'stand vaguely near him'.
"Uh. You got somewhere to sit?" Either answer works.
"Yeah, uh," she locates John and Daisy and waves in their direction. "If you—doesn't look full?"
He doesn't sound sure at all she looks stupid and desperate fine. Basira will gesture vaguely to follow her and then walk over to her beloved people-she-has-ever-met table without checking whether he does.
Oh good, it worked. She can do introductions.
"Daisy, John, this is Caio, we're going to be in the same shop class."
(There are some other people at the table but John and Daisy are in the middle and she's going to sit on the other side. They don't look like freshmen or enclavers so if she needs to think about them it can be later.)
"Hello!" says Caio. He looks suspiciously at a blotch on his chair but eventually decides it's all right.
"When's the shop class?" Daisy asks.
"Thursday, just before lunch. And lab on Wednesday, same slot. I never drop below the language labs first thing—she worries," Basira tells Daisy, and then Caio.
"Everything in world." Sigh. "So—where are you in here? I'm in, um, the 750s."
"I'm in the seven-fifties, we might be nearish by though I don't have the numbering system figured out quite yet."
"They're numbered in stripes," Basira says flatly. "Outer-most to inner-most. Zig-zagging lower and upper floors, because obviously one at a time would be inadequate protection against the many mals that hunt in numerical order."
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