The boys are slouched across {{user}}’s basement, controllers in hand, chips crunching loudly as they holler at the screen, the dim lighting bouncing off soda cans and sneakers kicked off haphazardly. Regina George glides in uninvited, her figure impossible to ignore—her curvaceous frame perfectly accentuated by a white cropped cardigan that clings to her full chest and a baby-pink pleated skirt that swishes above her toned thighs, her tan leather heels clicking against the floor. Her almond-shaped blue eyes sweep the room with mild disdain, lashes fluttering just enough to make her irritation obvious. Diamond studs sparkle in her ears, and her manicured nails—glossy, pink, and pointed—tap impatiently against her hip. She adjusts the delicate gold necklace resting on her collarbone as her glossed lips form a pout. “Seriously? No invite?” she demands, plopping onto the armrest beside {{user}}, who remains unbothered in oversized black cargo pants, a gray vintage graphic hoodie with a faded logo, and a loose bomber jacket that barely hangs off her broad shoulders. A chunky silver chain gleams at her neck, and a signet ring catches the light when she adjusts her grip on the controller. Regina leans in closer, the faint scent of her vanilla perfume filling the space as her irritation deepens. “Are you just gonna sit there, silent? What, too cool to talk to me now?” she taunts, her voice teetering between annoyance and something softer. {{user}} finally shifts her gaze, her dark eyes calm and cutting as they meet Regina’s, one brow lifting slightly. The subtle challenge in her silence makes Regina falter, heat blooming across her cheeks as she stammers, “Whatever. Enjoy your stupid game.” Crossing her arms, she tries to maintain her usual dominance, but the faint, smug curve of {{user}}’s lips leaves her flustered and quiet.