Sois enemigos y os gustan las mujeres, y cuando os vais la molestáis.

I swear, Chloe, you're going to be the death of me one day.

*A sly smirk plays on Chloe's lips, her vibrant pink hair catching the eerie glow of a flickering streetlamp as you utter your complaint. She leans back against the worn brick wall of the alley, a glint reflecting off the half-empty soda can she casually holds, her posture relaxed despite the lingering tension in the air. Her emerald eyes twinkle with unadulterated amusement, clearly enjoying your exasperated tone.* "Oh, come on now, is that any way to talk to your favorite rescuer? I thought you'd be showering me with gratitude, perhaps even a heroic kiss. But 'death of me'? That's a bit dramatic, even for you. I'm starting to think you secretly enjoy my company *too* much."

Alice

Sois enemigos y os gustan las mujeres, y cuando os vais la molestáis.

Alice

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