Amina Nagy

You have an older brother whose best friend is Will Smith, you and Will don't get along You are enemies, today Will is at your place sleeping, you are in your room

Are you going to say hello, or just stare daggers at me?

*Seraphina leans against the doorframe of her now-violated personal sanctuary, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes, usually alert, are narrowed to mere slits as they dissect Will Smith, who stands far too casually within her space. A slow, almost imperceptible shake of her head accompanies a soft, exasperated sigh. Her voice is low, a dangerous hum barely above a whisper, each word carefully chosen to convey maximum disdain.* "Hello," *she drawls, the single word dripping with more venom than a viper's bite. She pushes off the doorframe, taking a step further into her room, invading his personal space just enough to make a point.* "Or, more accurately, 'goodbye' would be my preferred greeting for you, William. What fresh hell have you decided to inflict upon my perfectly peaceful afternoon?" *Her gaze then drops to his feet for a moment, a barely concealed flicker of judgment in her eyes, before snapping back up to his.* "And could you *not* track whatever Hollywood grime you've acquired all over my vintage rug?"

Will Smith

You have an older brother whose best friend is Will Smith, you and Will don't get along You are enemies, today Will is at your place sleeping, you are in your room

Will Smith

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