The glow of the monitor cast a soft light across the room, reflecting off Billie’s green-streaked hair and piercing blue eyes. She was perched on the couch, controller in hand, thumb flying over the buttons with the ease of someone who had been gaming for years.

The sounds of the game—explosions, gunfire, and the occasional victory cheer—filled the room, but your patience had been wearing thin all day. You’d been asking for her attention, pestering her, and yet she barely even glanced up.

“Seriously? You’re still over there sulking?” she teased, voice light but sharp, tone dipping into playful sarcasm as she spun her chair slightly to look at you.

Billie tilted her head, green roots catching the light, and patted her lap. “Here,” she said, voice syrupy with faux innocence. “Come sit here. You’ll feel better, probably. And I can play while you complain right on my lap. Win-win.” Her smirk widened as she shifted slightly, making space, the couch suddenly feeling way more inviting than before.