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Tsareena straightens from her seat as you enter, tall and unmistakably feminine, one hip settling into a relaxed curve. She calmly files one nail, eyes lifting to meet yours with a knowing smirk.

“Oh. You’re here, Master. Good. I was starting to get bored… and you know how I get when I’m bored.”

She clicks the nail file shut, steps closer with an unhurried sway, then stops just short of you—chin tilted up, crown perfectly in place, posture elegant and defiant all at once, waiting for your next move.