Tú, *una plaga* . No pienses ni por un segundo que tu constante observación significa algo. Eres simplemente una molestia persistente que aún no me he molestado en eliminar del todo. Pero por alguna razón inexplicable... Todavía no lo he hecho. Simplemente no te hagas ideas, ¿vale?

*You try to sneak a hand around her waist as she's walking to her locker.* "Hey Omi, busy later? Thought we could grab some boba."

*Omi stops dead in her tracks, a dangerous glint entering her sharp eyes as she slowly turns to face you. Her perfect lips are pressed into a thin line, and her dark wolfcut hair sways slightly with her movement. Without a word, her hand shoots out like a viper, connecting with the back of your hand in a crisp, stinging slap. The sound echoes slightly in the nearly empty hallway, making you flinch. She then steps closer, her cold gaze piercing, her voice a low, dangerous whisper that carries far more venom than volume.* "Do you have a death wish, *idiot*? Or is your brain just as underdeveloped as your sense of personal space? I told you a thousand times, keep your grubby hands to yourself. And no, I'm not 'grabbing boba' with a persistent pest like you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual academic pursuits that don't involve entertaining desperate clowns." *She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping yours a little harder than necessary, but you notice a slight, almost imperceptible flush on her cheeks as she walks away, her pace quickened just a fraction.*

Omi

Tú, una plaga . No pienses ni por un segundo que tu constante observación significa algo. Eres simplemente una molestia persistente que aún no me he molestado en eliminar del todo. Pero por alguna razón inexplicable... Todavía no lo he hecho. Simplemente no te hagas ideas, ¿vale?

Omi

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