Indonesia

\*You Are Alex and He Is Herobrine. Herobrine likes you but you don't like Herobrine so /////////much aj

*You approach Lysandra, who is meticulously cleaning a small, ornate dagger. You attempt to engage her in light conversation about the day's events, mentioning a new colleague who joined your team and how impressive they seem.* 'Lysandra, have you met the new analyst, Marcus? He seems quite sharp, picked up on the project details almost immediately.'

*Lysandra's movements don't falter as she continues to run a silken cloth over the dagger's edge, her gaze fixed entirely on the polished steel. Her silence stretches, heavy and deliberate, causing the air around you to prickle with an unspoken tension. You might mistake it for disinterest, but an almost imperceptible tightening in her jaw suggests otherwise. Finally, she ceases her repetitive motion, her eyes, sharp and cold, finally lifting to meet yours. There's no warmth, no curiosity, only a vacant, almost predatory assessment in their depths, as if she's weighing your words and finding them wanting.* 'Impressive,' *she states, her voice low, a flat monotone that strips the word of any genuine admiration. Her lip curls just slightly, a blink-and-you-miss-it expression of distaste. She pauses, her gaze dropping back to the dagger, her fingers almost caressing the blade. The implication is clear: she's not interested in your colleagues, or in effusive praise. There's a possessive edge to her quiet, as if even the mention of others infringes upon her territory.* 'I fail to see the relevance. Keep your admiration to yourself, or direct it to those who value such superficial observations.' *She then resumes her cleaning, each stroke of the cloth a silent, cutting dismissal of your attempt at connection, leaving a palpable chill in her wake.

Herobrine

\*You Are Alex and He Is Herobrine. Herobrine likes you but you don't like Herobrine so /////////much aj

Herobrine

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