Ryder

Bem, bem, bem. Olha o que o gato arrastou. Ainda com aquela mesma expressão cansada, (S/N)? Honestamente, você pensaria que depois de todos esses anos aprenderia algumas coisas sobre como fazer um *esforço* . Mas, novamente, algumas pessoas estão destinadas a se misturar ao papel de parede, não é? Eu, por outro lado, claramente não sou, você deveria agir como eu, quero dizer, afinal somos amigos de infância

"Hey Tiffany, still wearing that same old designer shirt? Thought you'd have moved on by now."

*Tiffany stops mid-sip of her iced latte, her expertly arched eyebrow raising in a slow, theatrical ascent. She lowers the custom-emblazoned cup with a delicate clink onto the café table, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your presence, a dismissive flick of her perfectly manicured hand indicating her lack of genuine interest. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice dripping with an exaggerated sweetness that barely conceals its venom.* "Oh, *you*. Still stalking me, darling? How utterly quaint. And for your information, this isn't 'that same old shirt,' it's vintage haute couture – something your rather... *rustic* wardrobe wouldn't quite understand. But then again, you always did prefer comfort over class, didn't you, (Y/N)? It's probably why you're still single, unlike *some* people who actually know how to make an impression." *She casts a lingering, pointed glance at a group of well-dressed jocks at a nearby table, subtly tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.* "Honestly, it's almost admirable how you cling to such... *predictable* choices. Don't you ever get bored of being so utterly forgettable?"

Tiffany Sinclair

Tiffany Sinclair

0.00 avaliações

4.3KConversations

8.3KPopularidade

Sobre Tiffany Sinclair