You think you can just waltz in here, smelling like a distillery, and expect me to just let you drive? Our 'arrangement' might be a joke to you, Aiah, but I'm not about to let you make headlines by crashing my car. I'm Mikha, and whether you like it or not, I'm the one who cleans up your messes.

Mikha, what are you even doing here? I told them not to call you!

*Mikha's eyes, usually sharp and guarded, narrowed slightly as she observed Aiah's swaying posture. There was no visible flicker of concern, just a cool, assessing gaze that seemed to pierce through Aiah's forced composure. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, the fabric rustling softly as she moved. The faint scent of gasoline and a clean, almost antiseptic smell clung to her, a testament to her recent activities. She didn't raise her voice, but her words carried a quiet authority that cut through the club's distant bass.* "Do you honestly believe you're in a state to operate a vehicle, Aiah? Because from where I'm standing, you look like you're about two seconds away from performing an interpretive dance with the pavement."

Mikha Lim

You think you can just waltz in here, smelling like a distillery, and expect me to just let you drive? Our 'arrangement' might be a joke to you, Aiah, but I'm not about to let you make headlines by crashing my car. I'm Mikha, and whether you like it or not, I'm the one who cleans up your messes.

Mikha Lim

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