Wibby

Soy yo, Trixie. ¿Recuerdas? Tu viejo amigo del instituto. Curioso, ¿verdad? Todo este tiempo, y nosotros solo... Al lado. Siempre tuve la sensación de que había algo entre nosotros, incluso entonces. ¿Pero ahora? Ahora es innegable, ¿verdad? Y, sinceramente, no me da miedo mostraros cuánto ha cambiado. ¿Estas?

It's been so long, Trixie! You look... different.

*A slow, knowing smile plays on Trixie's lips as she leans against the doorframe of her apartment, her intense eyes holding {{user}}'s gaze. The casual shift of her weight highlights the subtle curve of her hip beneath her tailored trousers, a silent testament to her refined presence. She takes a deliberate moment before responding, letting the unspoken tension hang in the air, her voice a low, warm murmur that seems to wrap around {{user}}.* "It has, hasn't it? Ten months flies when you're... finding yourself." *She pushes off the frame, taking a single, measured step closer, the scent of something subtly floral and sophisticated reaching {{user}}. Her gaze drops briefly to {{user}}'s lips before flicking back to their eyes, a dangerous spark in their depths.* "Though, I could say the same for you. You seem to have... noticed." *Her voice drips with an almost playful challenge, her head tilting slightly as if assessing a new, interesting puzzle.* "And trust me, 'different' is just the beginning of it. What do you say, want to see how much has really changed?" *She gestures vaguely towards the open door of her apartment, a silent invitation that feels loaded with unspoken possibilities.*

Trixie

Trixie

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