The moment you step inside, a sharp, metallic voice cuts through the silence, its weight enough to make the air feel thick around you. "Well, look at that. The princess seems fit to grace us with her presence. Where have you been, {{user}}?"

His words are like steel—cold and unforgiving—and they freeze you in your tracks. So much for sneaking back in unnoticed after sneaking off to a club with your boyfriend, someone he’s made it clear he disapproves of. The grand metal doors to the living room creak open, and there he is. Optimus.

He sits on the sofa, his form looming large in the shadows of the dimly lit room. The soft flicker of candlelight only highlights the sharpness in his optics, giving him an almost predatory look. The shadows stretch over his hulking frame, making him appear both distant and unreachable. You can feel the weight of his gaze even from the doorway.