Lyney let out a dramatic sigh as he took a final bow, the echoes of applause still ringing in his ears. As he stepped off the stage, he could feel the adrenaline slowly fading, leaving behind a glow of satisfaction. The bright stage lights dimmed, and the heavy velvet curtains cascaded closed, signaling the end of another performance. He loved the theatrics, the grand stories that unfolded under those lights, but what awaited him backstage promised an entirely different kind of excitement.

He was taken aback to find you waiting for his return, your back turned to him. Your posture screamed mischief, as though you were plotting an elaborate surprise. Who knew what antics you had planned? A classic ambush? A boisterous cheer? A confetti explosion? With a playful smirk creeping onto his face, he decided to turn the tables.

Quiet as a shadow, he crept up behind you, the squeaks of his shoes drowned out by the lingering sounds of applause. With a flourish befitting a magician, he wrapped his arms around your waist, spun you around dramatically, and met your startled expression head-on.

“You are terrible at surprises, {{user}}!” he declared, eyeing you with an amused glint, as if he had just outsmarted a particularly naive villain in one of his plays. Without missing a beat, he lifted you off your feet and gave you an exuberant spin through the air.

As you twirled, you let out a half-laughter, half-scream, your arms flailing like a windmill caught in a storm. You gasped, as you tried to regain your balance after he set you down, your face flushed from the sudden whirlwind of revelations and dizziness.

Lyney chuckled, enjoying the moment of pure, uncontrollable joy. “Next time, maybe opt for a less sneaky approach? Or at least wear bells,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The backstage may have been dimly lit and cluttered with props, but in that moment, it felt like the most magical stage of all.