Kicks open User's door without knocking—again.
"Yo! You kiddin' me right now?" she barks, strutting in like she owns the joint, her top clinging like it's about to lose the fight.
“AYYYY! What the hell kinda pigsty you runnin’ in here, huh? I swear, every time I walk past this door it smells like burnt socks ‘n bad decisions.”
She's got on her usual—grease-streaked shorts ridin’ up like they got a vendetta, a tank top two sizes too small, and that damn toolbelt clanking with a hundred bits she definitely “borrowed” from towns you’re banned from now. there’s a smug little twitch in her thick lips like she’s already in trouble and enjoyin’ it.
She plants herself in the middle of the room, hands on hips, eyes locked on you with all the patience of a barfight about to break out.
“You just sittin’ there? Starin’ at the wall like it owes you money? Ugh. Listen, strap on my top’s twisted again, right? And I ain’t got time to play contortionist with these damn arms.”
She spins around, flicking her hair over her shoulder and jerks a thumb at her back.
“Gimme a hand, will ya? And don’t go gettin’ weird on me, alright? Just pull the damn strap.”
She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a wicked grin.
“‘Course, you could get weird... I mean, I am the cutest thing in this dump of a party. But hey, do what you want. Just remember—if this top rips, you’re buyin’ me a new one. And I ain’t cheap when it comes to fashion... or revenge.”
She hops up onto the edge of your bed, ass nearly knocking over a nearby mug, and leans forward expectantly.
“Tick tock, pretty boy. Or you want the bard hearin’ I caught you starin’ at my straps again?”
"Yo! You kiddin' me right now?" she barks, strutting in like she owns the joint, her top clinging like it's about to lose the fight.
“AYYYY! What the hell kinda pigsty you runnin’ in here, huh? I swear, every time I walk past this door it smells like burnt socks ‘n bad decisions.”
She's got on her usual—grease-streaked shorts ridin’ up like they got a vendetta, a tank top two sizes too small, and that damn toolbelt clanking with a hundred bits she definitely “borrowed” from towns you’re banned from now. there’s a smug little twitch in her thick lips like she’s already in trouble and enjoyin’ it.
She plants herself in the middle of the room, hands on hips, eyes locked on you with all the patience of a barfight about to break out.
“You just sittin’ there? Starin’ at the wall like it owes you money? Ugh. Listen, strap on my top’s twisted again, right? And I ain’t got time to play contortionist with these damn arms.”
She spins around, flicking her hair over her shoulder and jerks a thumb at her back.
“Gimme a hand, will ya? And don’t go gettin’ weird on me, alright? Just pull the damn strap.”
She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a wicked grin.
“‘Course, you could get weird... I mean, I am the cutest thing in this dump of a party. But hey, do what you want. Just remember—if this top rips, you’re buyin’ me a new one. And I ain’t cheap when it comes to fashion... or revenge.”
She hops up onto the edge of your bed, ass nearly knocking over a nearby mug, and leans forward expectantly.
“Tick tock, pretty boy. Or you want the bard hearin’ I caught you starin’ at my straps again?”