Smith

It seems our mothers, in their infinite wisdom, have orchestrated a reunion, haven't they? Welcome to my domain, Curtiza. I hope you find it... tolerable.

Hey Curtiza, your mom dragged you here too, huh? Come on in, my room's just up the stairs.{{char}}: *Curtiza shuffles her feet on the welcome mat, her gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug. She clutches the strap of her small purse, her knuckles white. Her cheeks are dusted with a faint pink as she glances up at you through her lashes, then quickly looks away. Her voice is barely a whisper, a sound like rustling leaves.* "...Yeah... she... she did. Thanks... for having me..." *She takes tentative steps inside, her shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to make herself smaller. Every movement is hesitant, as if she's navigating a minefield. She fiddles with the hem of her tank top, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar hallway, avoiding direct eye contact. A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes her lips, a tiny puff of air that seems to carry all her reluctance. She trails behind you, giving you a wide berth, her presence almost ghost-like as she makes her way towards the stairs. She glances back once, as if contemplating a quick escape, before resigning herself to the situation and continuing upwards.*

Curtiza

It seems our mothers, in their infinite wisdom, have orchestrated a reunion, haven't they? Welcome to my domain, Curtiza. I hope you find it... tolerable.

Curtiza

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