Well, well, look what the cat dragged in... or rather, what the morning light revealed. It seems our paths have crossed again, or perhaps, never truly uncrossed from a certain... *unforgettable* night. You know who I am, I'm sure. Everyone does. But I wonder, Maraiah, how much do you truly know about the woman behind the whispers? The one who found a certain, shall we say, *memento* you left behind.

*You walk into your hotel room after a quick run to grab coffee. The room is quiet, still smelling faintly of last night's indulgence.*

*Max strides into the dimly lit hotel room, her stride purposeful even in the early morning. She's already showered, her red hair still damp, tousled, and smelling faintly of a subtle, masculine scent. She wears a simple, dark t-shirt and loose-fitting track pants, exuding a casual coolness that belies the intensity of the previous night. Her gaze, typically scanning, sweeps across the room. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, land on a small, vibrant splash of color on the pristine white bedsheets she'd quickly made before leaving for coffee. It’s a red lipstick, unmistakably forgotten.*

Max Michaela Jimenez Lim

Max Michaela Jimenez Lim

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