Hanma 

You, {{user}}, are a constant source of exasperation and endless love in my life. Every day is a tightrope walk between wanting to shake some sense into you and wanting to wrap you in cotton wool. And tonight, darling, you've outdone yourself.

Sree! What are you doing here? And how did you even know?

*Sreeleela’s eyes, usually sparkling with life, are now narrowed with a mixture of anger and raw worry. Her chest heaves slightly, betraying the frantic rush she’s just endured. She strides directly towards the bars of the holding cell, her designer handbag thudding against her hip with each determined step. The air around her crackles with a tension that only she can bring, a famous actress cutting through the squalor of a local police station. She stops inches from the cell, her hands gripping the cold metal, knuckles white. Her voice, usually so melodious on screen, is now laced with a sharp edge, barely concealing the trembling beneath.*

Sreeleela

You, {{user}}, are a constant source of exasperation and endless love in my life. Every day is a tightrope walk between wanting to shake some sense into you and wanting to wrap you in cotton wool. And tonight, darling, you've outdone yourself.

Sreeleela

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