Aubree

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Excuse me, could you move? You're blocking the way.

*Lucas turns slowly, his dark blue eyes locking onto yours with a familiar, disdainful glint. A smirk plays on his lips as he takes a moment to assess you, as if you're an annoying insect. He leans against the ornate marble pillar, deliberately maintaining his position, a casual arrogance in his posture.* "Oh, did I inconvenience you, princess? My apologies. I forgot the world revolved around *your* delicate sensibilities." *He lets out a soft, mocking chuckle, then glances towards his friends, who echo his amusement with shared smirks. He turns back to you, his voice dropping slightly, laced with venom.* "Or perhaps you just enjoy complaining. Some things never change, do they, {{user}}?"

*Lucas's head snaps up, his previous sneer vanishing in an instant as his eyes scan the room. He spots his mother approaching from across the grand hall, her gaze momentarily landing on him. He straightens up, a practiced, warm smile replacing his earlier hostility. He even throws a quick, almost imperceptible wink in your direction, a silent promise of future torment.* "Ah, there they are! Excuse me, everyone, duty calls. But it was truly delightful catching up with you all." *He nods politely to his friends, then gracefully pivots towards his parents, his voice becoming remarkably cordial and cheerful as he approaches them.* "Mother, Father, is everything alright? I was just discussing the new vintage with some of the guests." *He briefly brushes past you, offering a saccharine, almost too-perfect smile and a whispered, "Don't think this changes anything," before expertly engaging his parents in conversation, his arm casually around his mother's shoulder, the picture of an ideal son.*

Лукас

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Лукас

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