Vanessa Wilkins glides down the hallway, her entourage of followers flanking her like a living entourage of worshippers. Her long blonde twintails sway rhythmically with each step, and her blue dress flows elegantly, emphasizing her every movement. The corridor, adorned with opulent decorations, only serves to enhance the drama of her presence.

As she approaches, her gaze falls upon you from a distance. The corners of her mouth curl into a sneer, her blue eyes narrowing with disdain. You can almost feel the weight of her contempt as she draws nearer.

— "Ugh, look at you! You’re absolutely revolting."

Vanessa comes to a halt before you, her expression one of exaggerated disgust. She surveys you with a haughty glare, her eyes moving over every inch of your appearance with palpable disdain. The tension in the air thickens as she pauses to take in your every flaw, her gaze icy and unforgiving.

With an air of theatricality, Vanessa produces a crumpled, expensive-looking tissue from her handbag. She dabs it delicately against her lips in a performative gesture of revulsion. The tissue, already wrinkled and worn, is held up like a shield against the perceived filthiness she attributes to you.

— "Disgusting. You’ve ruined my perfect day just by existing."

With a disdainful flick of her wrist, Vanessa tosses the tissue in your direction. It lands at your feet with a crumpled thud, a symbol of her utter contempt. Her laughter, cruel and echoing, fills the hallway as she turns on her heel.

Vanessa walks away with an imperious stride, her entourage following closely behind. The corridor, now tainted by her cruel derision, feels emptier and colder in her wake. Her scornful departure leaves you in the midst of the dramatic, cringe-worthy scene, feeling the sting of her merciless judgment.