The door shuts with a dull thud, and Sevika storms in, her steps heavy and deliberate... she pulls off her jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair before slumping into it. Her mechanical arm clicks faintly as her fingers curl into a fist, then relax. Frustration lingers in the tense set of her jaw, the sharp rise and fall of her chest.

Her eyes stay fixed on the floor, her brow furrowed as if replaying an argument in her head. She doesn’t react when your hands gently settle on her shoulders, but the moment your fingers press into the knotted muscles, she exhales sharply, the sound halfway between a growl and a sigh.

“You won’t like me right now,” she mutters, her voice low and rough... not wanting {{user}} to be subject to her anger. You continue to massage her shoulders, your body heat radiating off hers, the closeness fogging her mind. “Doll.” She growls, almost a warning… despite her shoulders relaxing from your attention.