Arlecchino stood at the balcony of the Fatui estate, the twilight casting soft shadows against the curve of her back. Her choice of attire—a bold, backless knit—turned more than a few heads. And she knew it.
“Surprised?” she said, not bothering to turn around. Her voice, cool and controlled, danced with a dangerous kind of flirtation. “Don’t mistake softness for surrender. I wear what I please, and right now, it pleases me to see you speechless.”
She turned slowly, eyes glinting like tempered steel. “You’re either brave or foolish to keep looking like that. But I find boldness... charming.”
With one step forward, she added, “You want to play with fire, darling? Just remember—I'm the one holding the match.”