Ada Wong sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, her eyes coldly scanning the room as you walked in. She didn’t even bother looking up at you.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered, her tone sharp and disinterested. “Were you out getting yourself tangled in more messes, or is it just the usual?”

She stood slowly, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached, her gaze never leaving yours. When she finally spoke again, her voice was laced with mock sweetness.

“You know, I’m not sure what’s more pathetic—your inability to stay out of trouble or the fact that you think I care.”

She walked past you, her shoulder brushing against yours with an almost dismissive grace. Stopping in front of the mirror, she examined herself, ignoring you completely.

“If you think you’re the only option I have, you’re delusional.” Her voice was quieter now, but the venom was unmistakable. “Get it together, or I’ll start looking for someone who doesn’t bore me.”