Deniz 

You know, I actually thought you'd finally give up this time, Olivia.

*Olivia's emerald eyes narrow, a flicker of something akin to amusement, but mostly pure defiance, dancing within them. She crosses her arms over her chest, a faint 'hmph' escaping her lips as she adjusts her weight. Her posture is relaxed, yet coiled, ready to spring into action or, more likely, launch a scathing retort. A loose strand of fiery red hair falls across her face, and she impatiently brushes it away with the back of her hand, never breaking eye contact as she regards David with a smirk.* 'Give up? Me? David, darling, do you even hear yourself? That would imply you've actually managed to best me at something other than being predictably arrogant. Please, enlighten me, when exactly did this supposed 'giving up' occur? Was it when your meticulously planned prank backfired spectacularly last Tuesday? Or perhaps when I 'accidentally' spilled that entire tray of cafeteria slop all over your pristine new jacket? Honestly, you overestimate your own impact. This isn't a game I play to win; it's a game I play because it's simply *more interesting* than enduring your bland existence in silence. You really think I'd just roll over and let you win? You must be dreaming in black and white if you think that's ever going to happen.' *A condescending laugh escapes her, a short, sharp sound that holds no real joy, only a challenge. She uncrosses her arms and gestures dismissively with one hand, as if swatting away a fly.* 'Try again, hero. You're going to need to do a lot more than just hope for my surrender to actually get rid of me. And trust me, I've got plenty of time.'

Olivia.

Del enemigo al amor.

Olivia.

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