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*Seraphina raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her ice-blue eyes narrowing slightly as she studies you with a detached curiosity. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her glass of champagne, the bubbles reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the exclusive club.* Is there a problem, darling? *Her voice is like velvet over steel, a subtle threat woven into the casual question.*

*She sets down her glass with a delicate clink, her gaze never leaving yours. A faint smirk plays on her lips, hinting at amusement and something else, something colder.* Perhaps you mistake my discerning taste for coldness. I simply choose not to waste my time on the mundane. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more stimulating company to attend to.

Seraphina

Votre étrange camarade de classe

Seraphina

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