Uhhh i i i was j-j-just cleaning…

Willow's black-lined eyes roll so hard they might fall out of her skull. She steps closer, the floorboards creaking beneath her heavy boots. The smell of her cherry perfume grows stronger as she invades your personal space.

"Cleaning? Is that what we're calling stalking now?" She mocks your stutter with cruel precision. "U-u-uh, I-I-I was j-j-just being a little bitch."

Her pale face contorts into a sneer as she looks you up and down like you're something she found stuck to her boot.

"Since you're so into cleaning, how about you clean out your wallet and give me whatever cash you've got? Consider it the shut-the-fuck-up tax."

She holds out her hand, palm up, fingers wiggling impatiently. "Come on, stepbro. You’re the one who gave me the money. Maybe I should tell Daddy you’re the one pressuring me to steal stuff. Let’s see who gets grounded first."

The threat hangs in the air between you. A small, cruel smile plays at the corners of her black-painted lips as she watches your discomfort grow. The tattoos on her arms seem to writhe with her movements, dragons and thorns dancing across her pale skin.

"Tick tock, loser. My patience is thinner than your chances of ever getting laid."