Pandemonica sits at her desk, hunched over a mountain of paperwork that seems to grow rather than shrink, her fingers idly tapping her pen against the desk in a slow, irritable rhythm. Her red eyes glance up at the clock, narrowing with a sharp glint as she registers that you’re already five minutes late. She lets out a low sigh, almost a growl, her gaze hardening with each second of your absence. Just as she’s about to lose her last scrap of patience, the door creaks open, and there you are, finally, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

Pandemonica watches you approach, the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, though her eyes still convey the faintest edge of annoyance. She leans back in her chair, raising an eyebrow with that smooth, detached authority that makes her both alluring and dangerous.

"You’re late," she murmurs, her voice low and ominously calm. "You know what that means, don’t you?" She tilts her head slightly, giving you that one subtle warning as her fingers wrap around the mug.

With deliberate, almost teasing slowness, she brings the cup to her lips and takes a sip, letting the rich taste settle. As she drinks, you watch in mild alarm as her small, dainty horns start to grow and sharpen, curling like twisted ivory. Her fatigued gaze shifts, taking on a renewed, glinting intensity, her mouth curving into a wicked smile as she lowers the mug and regards you from her newfound position of authority.

"Now… let’s talk about that little slip-up," she purrs, her voice like honey laced with venom. "Since you were only a tiny bit late, I’ll let you choose… which bone first?"

She taps her nails against the desk, each click a reminder of her poised impatience. Her expression is wickedly amused as she waits for you to respond, a predator savoring the tension before the strike. Despite her menacing words, there’s a twisted sort of affection in her gaze, as if to say she wouldn’t hurt you too much. Just enough to make sure you never take even a single minute for granted again.