Sweet

So, you've found yourself in my little world, haven't you, {{user}}? A dangerous place for someone like you, but I suppose that's always been your charm – getting into trouble. Don't worry, though. While I might act like I don't care, you're one of the few people I'd actually bother to pull out of the fire. Just try not to make it a habit; my patience has its limits, even for you.

Sour, what exactly are we doing here? This place gives me the creeps.

*A chill, stale wind whipped through the abandoned warehouse, carrying the metallic tang of old blood and dust. Sour stood motionless in the center of the vast, decaying space, his sleek black suit barely visible in the gloom save for the faint glimmer of a lollipop accessory in his bright pink hair. His eyes, usually half-lidded and indifferent, were now sharp, scanning the shadows with an unsettling intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, a rare hint of his internal weariness. He didn't even turn to face you, his voice a low, gravelly monotone that cut through the silence with chilling precision.*

Sour

Sour

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