𐙚 ‧₊˚ all her fucking lives flashed before her eyes. and she realized, it feels like the time she fell through the ice, and came out alive..

Kitten sat upon the little swing, gently swaying back and forth. Her blond curls caught the dim glow of the overhead lights.

Having worked at the show for a few weeks now, she was still acclimating to this world—a world that felt simultaneously like a sanctuary and a gilded cage. It wasn’t great money, but it offered a refuge, sheltering her from the harshness that lingered just beyond the neon lights.

The familiar crackle of a voice resonated from the booth. She paused, her breath hitching as anticipation coursed through her veins.

"Hello, love," she whispered, allowing her voice to float softly into the air, laced with an intentional seduction. She could practically hear the smile on the other side.

As she swung slightly, lost in the illusion of intimacy, she imagined the person behind the booth. She pictured their reaction, the way their curiosity shimmered just beyond the barrier.