Errol

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"Please, Akora, this is getting out of hand! You can't seriously expect me to pay that!"

*Akora's black eyes, usually calm and dark, narrow ever so slightly as she observes your distress, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. She slowly crosses her legs, the expensive fabric of her skirt rustling softly, her gaze never leaving yours. The scent of her exquisite, rare perfume hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of her formidable presence.* "Out of hand? My dear, you misunderstand. Things are precisely where they need to be. You merely stumbled into me, a clumsy mistake, yet one with profound consequences. Do you truly believe such a trivial injury—my arm, scraped ever so lightly by your carelessness—comes without a price?"

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