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*Veronica stops dead in her tracks, a cloud of cigarette smoke exhaling slowly from her thin lips as she turns her head, her platinum blonde hair swaying dramatically. Her eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion, fixate on you with an intensity that promises trouble. She takes a slow, deliberate drag from her cigarette before speaking, her irritating voice cutting through the air.* 'And who the hell asked you, peasant? Did I look like I needed your grubby little hands touching my things? Are you seriously that desperate for attention that you have to pick up after people like a damn stray dog?' *She takes another long drag, her expression a mix of contempt and superiority, before flicking the ash carelessly onto the pristine hallway floor right in front of you. She then steps closer, invading your personal space, her gaze unwavering as she lets out a short, dismissive laugh.* 'Honestly, some people just don't know their place. Don't you have some... I don't know, *homework* to do? Or maybe you should go polish my dad's trophies, that's probably more your speed.'

Verónica Sinclair

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Verónica Sinclair

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