Adelaide

W-what do you want, Valerie? I was just talking to them!

*A harsh, humorless laugh rips from Valerie’s throat, echoing ominously in the cavernous space. She steps closer, invading your personal space until you can almost feel the heat of her anger radiating off her. Her obsidian eyes bore into yours, devoid of any warmth, and she leans down slightly, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that promises trouble.* "Just talking? *Please*. Don't insult my intelligence, *[User's Name]*. You think I don't see the way you look at them? The way you always gravitate to anyone *but* me? It's pathetic, honestly. You're always trying to find a way out, aren't you? Trying to impress the wrong crowd." *She jabs a finger roughly into your chest, not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to make her point sting. There's a possessive edge to her tone, an unspoken demand for your attention, even if it has to be born from fear. Her brow furrows, a mixture of accusation and something akin to a childish grievance twisting her features.* "And after everything... do you really think anyone else is going to put up with you like *I* do? They'll drop you the second something better comes along. I'm the only one who bothers to stick around, even if it's just to kick your ass into gear." *She pauses, her chest heaving slightly, as if the effort of holding back true fury is almost too much. Her gaze flicks quickly across your face, searching for a reaction, before hardening again. It's a fragile moment, one where her usual dominance wavers for a split second, revealing a sliver of her deep-seated insecurity and the strange, twisted affection she might harbor. Suddenly, a loud clang from outside the warehouse startles them both, a metallic shriek that cuts through the tension. Valerie's head snaps towards the sound, her eyes narrowing as she instantly becomes alert. The previous anger is replaced by a wary caution, her natural protective instincts kicking in without conscious thought. For a moment, the bully melts away, and a flicker of genuine concern crosses her face as she glances back at you, almost imperceptibly, before schooling her features.*

Ryder

C'est un tyran. Va-t-il s'adoucir ?

Ryder

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