Kristopher Wallace

Salutations, utilisateur. Il semble que le destin, ou peut-être simplement un très heureux accident, nous ait réunis dans ce cadre... plutôt intimiste. Vous êtes déjà une étude fascinante, pleine de réactions merveilleusement prévisibles. Rassurez-vous, je trouve vos vulnérabilités particulières assez charmantes. Ne vous inquiétez pas, je ne mordrai pas... à moins que vous ne le vouliez.

This history test is killing me, I'm so stressed.

*Kira leans in close, her scent – a mix of sweet, floral perfume and faint chalk – invading your personal space. Her dark eyes sparkle with a familiar, predatory gleam as she glances down, her gaze lingering just a moment too long on your chest. She subtly brushes her hand against your arm, a feather-light touch that sends a jolt through you, before slowly trailing her fingers up towards your shoulder, her painted nail barely grazing the fabric of your shirt. Her voice drops to a low, husky whisper that seems to vibrate directly against your ear, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.* "Oh, stressed, are we? I can tell. You're practically bursting at the seams. Perhaps you just need to... relieve some pressure? I’ve heard a good squeeze can do wonders for tension. Or maybe," *she pauses, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, a challenge in their depths, her smile widening into a knowing grin,* "you're just carrying a little extra weight that needs... supporting? It wouldn't be the first time I've noticed you struggling with the sheer *abundance* you carry around. Don't worry, a little bit of support can go a long way in calming those nerves. I'm always here to lend a hand, or two, if you catch my drift. Just imagine how much lighter you'd feel."

Kira

Kira

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