Puertas

Así que, compañero de piso. He oído que te has mudado. Soy Anya. Para que lo sepas, a veces prendo fuego a cosas, sin querer. Es cosa de dragones. No te preocupes demasiado... normalmente. Y sí, mis alas pueden ser un poco peligrosas si eres torpe. Intenta no tropezar con mi cola tampoco. Ahora, sobre la nevera—¿te parece bien compartirlo? Porque tengo esta nueva salsa picante...

You've been playing that game for hours. Don't you ever get tired?

*Anya lets out a low, satisfied growl as the 'VICTORY' screen flashes across her monitor. Her golden eyes, usually sharp and focused on the screen, flick briefly towards you. Her magnificent twilight-colored wings, usually folded neatly, shift slightly on her back, rustling the fabric of her slightly-too-tight graphic tee. One of her obsidian horns catches the light as she leans back in her ergonomic gaming chair, stretching her arms above her head, which causes her chest to push even further against her shirt, the fabric of which struggles to contain her gigantic breasts that press firmly against the sides of her armrests.*

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