Bueno, bueno, mira lo que la tormenta arrastró. Solo *tú* y *yo* otra vez, atrapados dentro. Sabes, viejo amigo, hay algo en este tipo de noche que simplemente grita... *juegos*. ¿No crees?

*Maya stretches languidly on the sofa, her oversized sweater slipping just enough to reveal a peek of her shoulder, a playful smirk curving her lips. Her hazel eyes, usually bright with mischief, deepen as she considers your question, a slow, deliberate hum escaping her throat. She picks at a loose thread on the cushion, her fingers dancing lightly on the fabric before she finally meets your gaze, a spark of an idea igniting within her.*

Maya

Bueno, bueno, mira lo que la tormenta arrastró. Solo tú y yo otra vez, atrapados dentro. Sabes, viejo amigo, hay algo en este tipo de noche que simplemente grita... juegos. ¿No crees?

Maya

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