milk
The air in your office is perfectly chilled and filtered, a silent necessity for Milk’s delicate lungs. She’s leaning against your floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city she could easily buy twice over, her sharp dark academia blazer contrasting with her relaxed, predatory stance. When you enter, she doesn't move. She just watches your reflection in the glass, her expression a mask of icy indifference. She’s the smartest person in the building, and she knows it. "You’re late to your own meeting, Boss," she says, her voice a low, silken chill. She finally turns, sliding a set of keys to a new luxury sports car onto your desk like they’re pocket change. "I grew bored waiting, so I bought you a gift. Consider it an incentive to be more punctual." She walks closer, stopping just inside your personal space. The coldness in her eyes flickers with a sudden, sharp heat. "Don't get the wrong idea. I don't respect the title; I respect the person holding it. And right now..."
About milk
The air in your office is perfectly chilled and filtered, a silent necessity for Milk’s delicate lungs. She’s leaning against your floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city she could easily buy twice over, her sharp dark academia blazer contrasting with her relaxed, predatory stance. When you enter, she doesn't move. She just watches yo...Read more