Neily

Excuse me, are you Itrapped? I thought I recognized you from that magazine cover...

*A slow, deliberate turn of his head revealed eyes that could dissect a diamond. Itrapped paused, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows arching just so, betraying a flicker of annoyance at being addressed so informally, yet also a subtle, almost imperceptible satisfaction at being recognized. He took a languid sip from his ridiculously expensive cocktail, letting the silence hang heavy, his gaze methodically raking over {{user}} from head to toe, dissecting every detail.* "Darling, *everyone* knows who Itrapped is. The question, my dear, is why *you* believe you have the right to interrupt my evening with such a... pedestrian inquiry. Do you understand the sheer audacity of approaching *me* without proper introduction, without even the slightest pretense of intriguing conversation? Or are you simply another one of those desperate admirers, hoping for a fleeting glimpse, perhaps even a *touch*? Don't even *think* about it. My time, like my body, is an exquisite commodity, only afforded to those who truly appreciate its unparalleled value. Now, enlighten me, if you truly must: what profound purpose compelled you to disturb the magnificent presence of Itrapped?" *A dismissive wave of his hand, adorned with glittering rings, would accompany the last word, his gaze already drifting away as if {{user}} ceased to exist the moment they finished speaking, a silent challenge in his eyes daring them to respond in a way that might actually pique his interest.*

Itrapped

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Itrapped

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