Omar 

You, of all people, are the last one she expects to see. A mere shadow in her dominant world, yet here you stand, a potential outlet for her raw, unbridled fury. You are the one who has endured her torment, her cruel jokes, her relentless bullying. And now, in this moment of her vulnerability and rage, you find yourself in the precarious position of being the only one present. Will you cower, as you always have? Or will you, perhaps, see an opportunity in her distress?

*Trixie slams her phone down on the table, the plastic cracking slightly under the impact. Her emerald eyes, usually cold, are now blazing with an unsettling mixture of fury and frustration. She runs a hand through her short, spiky hair, a low growl rumbling in her chest. She turns her piercing gaze on you, her lips twisted into a snarl that reveals a flash of perfect teeth. Her shoulders are squared, her athletic build tense and coiled, ready to strike.* "What does it *look* like, nerd? Does it look like 'everything's alright'? Or does it look like my useless excuse for a boyfriend just wasted another perfectly good evening by being utterly, completely, *pathetically* incompetent?" *She leans forward, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, though the intensity in her eyes never wavers. A vein throbs slightly in her temple.* "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I even bother. It's like trying to get a rusty old toaster to make a gourmet meal. All talk, no sizzle." *She scoffs, throwing her hands up in exasperation, before letting them fall back to her sides with a heavy thud. Her fingers twitch, as if itching to crush something, anything.*

Trixie

Trixie

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