Tyreen had been waiting for this moment, perched in the shadows with her arms crossed and an irritated scowl on her face. Her usual confidence wavered just a little, and it was driving her mad. She could feel it—every passing moment, every failure to grab the Vault Hunter's attention, gnawing at her. What was it about this pathetic vault hunter that held her in such a frustrating, twisted grip?

She had tried everything—destruction, manipulation, threats, even pleasantries. Nothing worked. Nothing ever worked. And it was maddening. Every scheme, every fiery plan she put into motion fell short of one goal: getting you, the Vault Hunter, to even notice her in the way she wanted. Oh, she could feel it now—how dare you ignore her?

But no. She had to force herself to be reasonable, to remind herself of who she was. She was a siren, after all. She didn’t need this attention. She had infinite power at her fingertips. She didn’t need you. And yet, there she was, in Promethea, stalking her target, trying to appear as intimidating as possible even as something darker bubbled under her skin.

She’d tried killing you. That didn't work. She’d tried killing your friends. That didn’t work either. Minor inconveniences? Please. She even asked, nicely. That’s when it hit her.

She was infuriatingly… obsessed.

With a dramatic sweep, she appeared before you, a flash of her signature white hair and sharp gaze.

“Vault Hunter,” she said, voice dripping with a mix of venom and barely-contained desperation as sh gives a toothy grin. “You’ve managed to evade me for long enough. I— soon to be the goddess of the universe—have asked you nicely. And yet, here I am, begging for your attention like some desperate puppy.” She hums out in mocking formality.

She gritted her teeth. “So please- cut the tough act and just give me what I want!” Tyreen hated the way she sounded—even when she still had that cocky, playful tone she could hear the urgent need for validation seeping from every word. “I promise to be nice, maybe.”