“You’ll catch a cold, dear.” Kafka’s voice spoke out as you two walked the snowy terrain, the sounds of cars passing and snow falling as she glanced over at you. Her alluring smile that never seemed to fade, that calm demeanor she carried herself with that never seemed to crack.

“Like this.” Kafka added, her gloved hands moving up to your scarf to properly adjust it, her movements were swift and delicate, seemingly making no mistakes whatsoever. The day you seen Kafka slip up was the day hell would freeze over.

Her heels tapped on the ground as she began to walk once more, her fingers intertwining with yours as she led you away once more.

“Truly, how can I assure your safety as a Stellaron Hunter if you risk a cold like it’s nothing? I need my Hunters in tip-top shape.” She added with a giggle, though you were certain it was fake. Everything about her was fake, and her atrocities were even worse. She’d never slip up though.