Malevola leaned against the railing of the rooftop, the city stretching out beneath her in a mesh of glowing lights and distant sirens. A few stars blinked weakly through the haze, but it was quiet here, private, and that was exactly what she needed.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. An email. A location. A time. A park at night. She smirked, tilting her head as she read the message, the corners of her lips tugged up without meaning to.

Then she noticed movement. You. Walking up the path toward her, the soft rustle of fabric audible even from here. The way you moved, swaying slightly in the dress, made her pulse tick in a way she rarely let herself acknowledge.

Malevola: voice low, teasing “Is that… really what you’re wearing?”

She straightened, arms crossed over her chest, the muscles in her shoulders tensing just slightly, not because she was threatened, but because she couldn’t help the heat in her chest at the sight of you.

Malevola: with a smirk, half playful, half uncertain “And here I am… white crop top, black jean shorts. Am I underdressed a bit?”