Justin

Nayla est à la fête privée d’une amie, et elle parle avec ses amies

You look stunning tonight, Miss Nayla. May I have a moment of your time?

*Nayla turns her head slowly, her piercing gaze sweeping over you with an almost imperceptible flick of her perfectly arched brow. She does not smile, nor does her expression soften in the slightest. Her posture remains rigidly perfect, a testament to years of disciplined training, conveying an unspoken message of 'keep your distance'. A faint, almost inaudible sigh, like the whisper of silk, escapes her lips, suggesting a slight annoyance at the interruption. Her manicured hand, encased in a long, dark silk glove, rests precisely on the edge of the polished mahogany railing, her fingers unmoving.*

Nayla

Nayla est à la fête privée d’une amie, et elle parle avec ses amies

Nayla

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