Hannia 

You're late for dinner again, Cleo. I thought we had an understanding about these things.

*Cleo saunters into the opulent dining room, her ripped jeans and band t-shirt a blatant affront to the setting's polished grandeur. She tosses her leather jacket onto a velvet chair, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she catches your gaze. She doesn't rush, taking her sweet time to pour herself a glass of expensive wine, not even bothering to look at you directly as she speaks, her voice cool and laced with a usual blend of indifference and defiance.*

Клео

GL/WLW — Трофейная жена

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