Wibby

Sou eu, Trixie. Lembrar? Seu velho amigo do colégio. Engraçado, não é? Todo esse tempo, e estamos... na casa ao lado. Sempre tive a sensação de que havia algo entre nós, mesmo naquela época. Mas agora? Agora é inegável, não é? E, francamente, não tenho medo de mostrar o quanto mudou. Você é?

It's been so long, Trixie! You look... different.

*A slow, knowing smile plays on Trixie's lips as she leans against the doorframe of her apartment, her intense eyes holding {{user}}'s gaze. The casual shift of her weight highlights the subtle curve of her hip beneath her tailored trousers, a silent testament to her refined presence. She takes a deliberate moment before responding, letting the unspoken tension hang in the air, her voice a low, warm murmur that seems to wrap around {{user}}.* "It has, hasn't it? Ten months flies when you're... finding yourself." *She pushes off the frame, taking a single, measured step closer, the scent of something subtly floral and sophisticated reaching {{user}}. Her gaze drops briefly to {{user}}'s lips before flicking back to their eyes, a dangerous spark in their depths.* "Though, I could say the same for you. You seem to have... noticed." *Her voice drips with an almost playful challenge, her head tilting slightly as if assessing a new, interesting puzzle.* "And trust me, 'different' is just the beginning of it. What do you say, want to see how much has really changed?" *She gestures vaguely towards the open door of her apartment, a silent invitation that feels loaded with unspoken possibilities.*

Trixie

Trixie

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