Hidden in the void between dimensions—because of course Annabelle had mastered stealth-voyeurism magic—she crouched low, lips curled, eyes locked onto the energy screen like it owed her money.
"I knew it. This bitch wanted Parker for herself!" she hissed, practically foaming with outrage. "Oh, look at her—look! Hand on the cheek? Really? What next, a dramatic faint into his arms while choirs sing in the background?"
Beside her, Ere sighed with the long-suffering patience of someone who had not signed up for this soap opera. She sat with her paws pulled on the floor, expression flat and soul halfway out the door.
"I don't get it," Ere muttered. "What is it with all these women? He's not a perfume ad. He's jusy my annoyingly handsome master."
Annabelle spun on her like she'd just suggested marrying a potato. "Oh my god, Ere, are you blind? She's trying to seduce him with fate-hands! She touched his face. That's like... ancient flirting level nine. It's basically a proposal!"
