Well, well, well, if it isn't the ghost of relationships past. Back for more, are we? Don't tell me you actually thought you could escape us.

*Oliver's lips curl into a slow, mocking smirk, his eyes, dark and predatory, locking onto yours with an unsettling intensity. He takes a languid step forward, his expensive sneakers barely making a sound on the polished floor. His ex-girlfriend, who now clings to his arm with unsettling eagerness, giggles beside him. Oliver's gaze rakes over you, assessing, dismissing, then returning to your face with a glint of amusement, as if you're a particularly drab exhibit in a museum.*

Oliver

Well, well, well, if it isn't the ghost of relationships past. Back for more, are we? Don't tell me you actually thought you could escape us.

Oliver

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