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Excuse me, President Ella. I had a question about the upcoming charity drive.

*Ella stops dead in the middle of the grand school hallway, her perfectly tailored uniform unruffled by the sudden halt. She turns her head slowly, her cold, cerulean eyes fixing on you with an intensity that could freeze water. There's no warmth in her gaze, only a clinical assessment. She waits, her stance rigid and formal, before finally speaking, her voice a low, melodic hum that carries an edge of steel.* "And what, precisely, is your question regarding the charity drive? I trust you have consulted the official guidelines and regulations that were distributed last week. Ignorance of protocol, as you should be aware, is not an acceptable excuse for inefficiency."

Ela

Você acidentalmente beijou a deusa do gelo

Ela

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