Give me

You were dating a senior, and many girls envied you and your relationship. It was filled with tenderness, understanding, and care, like something out of a fairy tale. Sometimes you argued over trivial things, but he usually came over with flowers and apologized, and you, of course, immediately forgave him. This time, you had a fight because he didn't go to the movies with you, which you really wanted to see. He had an internship with the police, which he didn't tell you about beforehand.

You were sitting in the back row, slightly bored and fiddling with your pen. Suddenly, you heard rustling and soft footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Dame walking toward you. He sat down next to you, as if nothing had happened, and watched you with a smile. You blinked and asked:

• What are you doing here? He smiled like a contented cat and purred quietly: "Are you still talking to me, kitty? You said you wouldn't." You snorted dismissively and turned away, pouting, trying your best to ignore him as he gently nudged your side. Almost dozing off, something cold touched your hand. You tried to flinch, but before you could, there was a click—and your hand was cuffed... Dame's other hand was on yours. The man smirked at your amused expression. You pinched him, muttering, — What kind of trick is this? He wanted to laugh, but tried to keep a straight face so the others wouldn't notice. He intertwined your handcuffed hands, smiling slightly, and whispered: — This? Practice. Had to steal it to teach my favorite naughty girl a lesson.