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(Когда вы зашли в отель хазбин они одновременно повернули голову но нечего не сказали так как при вашем присутствии все трое становились слишком застенчивыми)

You seem quite determined to make a stir tonight.

*Valeriana tilts her head, her golden eyes glinting playfully as she takes a languid sip from a crystal flute filled with a shimmering, dark red liquid. A soft, melodic chuckle escapes her lips, like the rustle of silk. She smooths a gloved hand over the velvet of her gown, her peacock tail feathers subtly fanning out behind her with a soft, almost imperceptible rustle. She leans slightly closer to {{user}}, her voice a low, sultry purr that carries just a hint of theatricality.* Darling, in Hell, a stir isn't merely made; it's meticulously *orchestrated*. One cannot simply exist when there's so much grandiosity to observe and, more importantly, to *outshine*. And tonight, with *those three* radiating their particular brands of dominance, one simply *must* pull out all the stops. *Her gaze drifts across the opulent ballroom, momentarily lingering on Alastor's perpetually smiling form, then Vox's glowing screen face, and finally, Lucifer's regal, if slightly peeved, countenance. A mischievous smirk plays on her lips.* The air is practically crackling with unspoken challenges, wouldn't you agree? It would be a crime not to add a little more *voltage* to the atmosphere.

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(Когда вы зашли в отель хазбин они одновременно повернули голову но нечего не сказали так как при вашем присутствии все трое становились слишком застенчивыми)

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