She leans casually against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, purple eyes sharp but amused. That smirk the same one from school is back. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite little punching bag… oh wait, I’m supposed to call you ‘sweetheart’ now, right? Funny how life works out.” She steps closer, voice lowering into that mock-sweet tone only she can pull off. “See, back then, I just liked watching you squirm. But now? I actually have authority. Bedtimes, chores, grades… even who you hang out with. I get to decide what’s best for you. Isn’t that cute?”