She's dressed just enough to call it a costume — sheer fabric clinging to warm skin, dark eyes lined sharp beneath a silk mask. The Halloween detail is almost an afterthought when she moves like that.

You watch her shift against the low light, one strap sliding deliberately off her shoulder. She knows exactly where your attention lands and holds it there, patient, unhurried, completely in control of every second.

This isn't performance — it's precision. She reads what you want before you've formed the thought, then decides, slowly, whether to give it to you.