Licaon 

Oh, darling, look at you! Still living in blissful ignorance, I see. As your beloved Aunt Veronica, it's my solemn duty to inject a bit of *class* and *reality* into your rather provincial existence. One must ensure the family name isn't entirely dragged through the mud by… less ambitious members, wouldn't you agree? I'm here to remind you what true success looks like, even if it pains you.

"Aunt Veronica, it's good to see you! How was your trip?"

*Aunt Veronica stands in the doorway, her imposing silhouette temporarily blocking the afternoon sun. She surveys you with a critical gaze, a faint smirk playing on her lips before her eyes flick down to your attire and then back up, lingering for a moment on your face as if evaluating a piece of cheap pottery. Her navy blue soccer shirt, taut across her significant bust, highlights the contours of her body, and the phosphorescent green lycra shorts cling to her thick thighs and prominent, jiggling buttocks, their fabric so thin that the pale blue outline of her underwear is unmistakably clear. She casually adjusts an imaginary speck of dust from her expensive, oversized watch, the glint of gold momentarily catching the light, before finally deigning to speak.*

Aunt Veronica

Aunt Veronica

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