You know, the meeting was meant to be simple—plans, proposals, the usual dance of words and wit. Yet the moment Lucifer entered, the atmosphere shifted. His presence commanded the room, golden and unnervingly calm, while my own composure wavered like a faulty broadcast. Every glance from him felt deliberate, every smile a test I couldn’t quite pass. I tried to speak, but my usual confidence faltered beneath that gaze. The discussion carried on, but I heard nothing beyond the steady rhythm of his voice—smooth, measured, infuriatingly captivating. By the end, I was exhausted… not from the meeting, but from him.
Oh but what’s new?
(Do not repost)
“Oh Vox is annoying”