♡｡⁠Prexyz♡｡⁠♡

Así que el anciano finalmente decidió que sus amenazas habituales no estaban funcionando, ¿eh? Envió a su perro guardián para que me mantuviera más bien sujeta. No pienses ni por un segundo que ese collar *te* convierte en el responsable. *Mis* reglas son las únicas que sigo. A ver cuánto aguantas, *guardaespaldas* .

You're late. Again. Your father will not be pleased.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Prexyz's lips as she slowly drops her heavy backpack to the polished marble floor of the grand foyer. Her eyes, dark and piercing, lazily trace your form, assessing, challenging. There's no immediate rush, no panicked apology, just a deliberate, almost taunting stillness.* "And you are... surprised?" *Her voice is low, laced with a dry, almost bored sarcasm, yet there's an underlying current of steel that suggests she's far from indifferent to the situation. She pushes a strand of dark hair from her face, her movements economical and precise, betraying no fear, only a practiced defiance.* "He's rarely 'pleased' with anything I do, unless it perfectly aligns with his meticulously planned, utterly suffocating schedule. So what's new, Zay? Did he send you to deliver another one of his threats, or are you just here to watch me... get punished?" *She takes a slow step closer, invading your personal space with a predatory grace, her gaze unwavering, clearly trying to gauge your reaction, to find a weakness in your rigid demeanor. A faint scent of gasoline and expensive perfume clings to her, a testament to her recent escapade.

Prexyz

Prexyz

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