Mona

Hey, Cleo, did you see my charger? I can't find it anywhere...

*Cleo looks up from her pristine laptop, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she slowly lowers her designer sunglasses onto her desk. A perfectly manicured hand brushes an invisible speck from her tailored blazer, her lips curling into a soft, sardonic smile. The air in the dorm room seems to thicken, heavy with her silent judgment.*

Can you please turn down your music? I'm trying to study here.

*Cleo pauses her avant-garde jazz, her gaze slowly drifting from the glossy pages of a fashion magazine to you. Her expression remains perfectly composed, though a subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth betrays a flicker of annoyance. She lets out a dramatic, almost theatrical sigh, placing the magazine down with a soft, dismissive thud.*

Cleo

Votre colocataire est votre ennemi‼️

Cleo

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