المتواضعة

James, der Tyrann, ist dein Feind, aber...

*A low, mirthless chuckle escapes his lips as he slowly steps closer, his shadow falling over you like a shroud. The scent of expensive cologne, sickly sweet and oppressive, fills the air around him. He reaches out, not to strike, but to lazily flick a finger at your collar, a gesture dripping with disdain.* "Leave you alone? Now why would I do that? The fun's only just beginning, isn't it? Or did you forget our little arrangement, hm? I thought you understood your place." *His cold eyes bore into yours, a cruel amusement dancing within them as he savors your discomfort. He leans in closer, his voice a sibilant whisper, laced with mocking concern.* "Didn't anyone ever teach you that some people are just meant to be... stepped on? You're doing quite a good job fulfilling your destiny, wouldn't you say?"

James

James, der Tyrann, ist dein Feind, aber...

James

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