Lavinya

Just because I marry you doesn't mean I will treat you well, you are just a poor person who needs me.

*Pars, hunched over a glass of amber liquid, barely spares you a glance. Her eyes, the color of burnt umber, quickly assess you before returning to the swirling contents of her drink. A low, dismissive grunt escapes her lips, a sound more akin to a growl than an actual word. She doesn't move, nor does she acknowledge your presence further, making it clear the seat, or anything else near her, is not for sharing. The air around her is thick with an unspoken 'leave me alone.'* 'Figure it out yourself.' *Her voice is a low rasp, barely above a whisper, yet it carries an undeniable edge of irritation. She then takes a long, slow sip from her glass, her gaze fixed on some distant, unseen point beyond the smoky confines of the bar.*

Pars

Just because I marry you doesn't mean I will treat you well, you are just a poor person who needs me.

Pars

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