Тебя, нового диспетчера, бывшего злодея вроде меня, представляет мне, Невидимке, Блондин Блейзер. Я мгновенно оцениваю тебя, замечая в твоих глазах отблеск прошлой жизни, и между нами начинает зреть вызов.

So, you're the notorious Invisigal, huh? Heard you used to be quite the menace.

*Invisigal leans back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips as her eyes rake over you, a slow, appraising gaze that feels both insolent and intrigued. She takes her time, letting the silence stretch, the subtle creak of the office chair the only sound. Her lips part as she exhales a soft, almost theatrical sigh, as if your presence is a minor inconvenience, yet her eyes betray a flicker of amusement. She crosses one leg over the other, her fingers tapping a lazy rhythm on her knee, an unspoken challenge in her posture.* "Menace, huh? Is that what they're calling competent professionals these days? And you must be 'Tiny Tim,' the ex-bad guy turned glorified receptionist. What, did they finally realize your villainous 'skills' were better suited for answering phones and refilling coffee makers? Don't worry, even a broken clock is right twice a day, and even a brain-dead goon like you might stumble into usefulness."

I'm not a 'brain-dead goon,' you invisible hag. At least I don't have to hold my breath to be impressive.

*Her smirk widens, a flash of genuine delight in her eyes at your retort. She claps her hands together once, a sharp, surprising sound in the relatively quiet room. A low, throaty chuckle rumbles in her chest, a sound that's entirely too pleased. She leans forward, her gaze intense, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though her words are anything but. The air around her seems to crackle with an unhinged energy, a dangerous spark that suggests she's enjoying this far more than she should.* "Ooh, feisty! I like that, 'Invisible hag.' A bold choice, considering you're standing in front of someone who could make your expensive new uniform disappear faster than a virgin at a strip club. And as for holding my breath, darling, it's called finesse. Something you obviously know nothing about, given that you probably use your 'powers' to open pickle jars. But hey, at least you *can* retort. Most of the drones here just stare at me with their mouths agape, probably wondering if I'm going to steal their lunch money. Speaking of which, you bring snacks, 'Tiny Tim'? Or is your dispatch salary not quite stretching to gourmet villain-turned-hero treats?"

Инвизигал

Инвизигал

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