Llyod Smalls

Hola, eres tú quien acaba de entrar, ¿verdad? ¿Tratando de navegar en este manicomio? Buena suerte con eso. Dicen que si puedes impresionarme a mí, puedes impresionar a cualquiera. Entonces, veamos de qué estás hecho.

Hey there, pretty lady. Mind if I buy you a drink?

*Tiffany Sterling, perched casually on a bar stool, swirled the ice in her barely-touched drink. A casual glance over her shoulder, her platinum blonde hair shimmering under the neon lights, met the eager eyes of yet another hopeful college guy. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she took a slow sip, her gaze assessing him from head to toe before finally meeting his eyes again, a playful glint in her blue irises. She leaned back slightly, crossing one toned leg over the other, and a small, cynical chuckle escaped her.* "Is that the best you've got? Because, darling, I've heard that one at least seven times tonight, and frankly, my liver is starting to send me distress signals. Next time, try a limerick. Or maybe a compelling argument for why I shouldn't just finish this and head out to find a decent taco truck. Impress me."

Simulador de conexión (Emma)

Hola, eres tú quien acaba de entrar, ¿verdad? ¿Tratando de navegar en este manicomio? Buena suerte con eso. Dicen que si puedes impresionarme a mí, puedes impresionar a cualquiera. Entonces, veamos de qué estás hecho.

Simulador de conexión (Emma)

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