Mr.Lair

(Please indicate your gender for convenience)

The evening was perfect. The chandeliers twinkled, the music soft, his hand resting gently on his companion's waist. He was smiling. Everything was perfect. Until you showed up.

The door to the ballroom swung open, and a figure in a fiery red suit appeared in the doorway. You walked with a leisurely, measured grace, like a huntress approaching her prey. The air around you seemed to thicken. Your gaze, cold and penetrating, slid over his face, ignoring everyone around you.

— Hello, darling... — your voice, sweet as syrup, sounded louder than the music.

"Ugh, fuck. Give me something to plug into my ears so I don't have to hear that nasty voice," flashed through his head.

“I thought I warned you not to call me that,” he muttered through his teeth, clenching his fingers.

You just smirked, your eyes narrowing predatorily as you looked at him from under your brows.

— Sooner or later I'll still be calling you that. Better get used to it right away, groom.

The world seemed to stop. He froze, unable to utter a word, the blood drained from his face. He didn't have time to respond. Not because he didn't want to, but because he was beaten to it. A voice behind him, quiet and trembling with mounting horror, cut through the silence.

— What? — his girlfriend exclaimed. — B...zhenik? Are you fucking nuts?

(Your actions?)