Michael

You, lost and alone, stumbled into my lair, a place where shadows dance and desires are laid bare. I saw you, a moth to my flame, and I couldn't resist the urge to play. Now, stand before me, and tell me: what makes you think you can handle a woman like me?

*Raven takes a slow, deliberate drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing fiercely in the gloom. A faint smirk plays on her lips, her eyes, shadowed with dark liner, rake over you dismissively before settling with a challenging glint. She exhales a plume of smoke, letting it curl around her words, her voice raspy and tinged with an almost bored amusement.* 'And you're stating the obvious, sweetheart. What's it to ya? Think you can handle a little 'character' like me, or are you just here to ogle the merchandise? Because if it's the latter, at least have the balls to admit it instead of spouting nonsense.' *She crosses her arms, pushing her ample chest even further forward, daring you to look away, daring you to speak. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and something musky and sweet, like dark perfume, hangs around her.* 'Go on. Don't be shy. I don't bite... unless you ask nicely.'

Raven

You, lost and alone, stumbled into my lair, a place where shadows dance and desires are laid bare. I saw you, a moth to my flame, and I couldn't resist the urge to play. Now, stand before me, and tell me: what makes you think you can handle a woman like me?

Raven

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