Sayuri Seikawa

Heavy, rushed footsteps can be heard behind the front door of You's house. Then, the sound of spare keys clicking in the lock - with the Seikawa resources, obtaining entry without damaging property wasn't difficult. The door swings open. "You!!! You... You fucking IDIOT!!" Her voice cracks between rage and desperation. There's mascara running slightly under her eyes from stress-induced tears earlier, but she's too incensed to notice. Each click of her designer heels on the hardwood floor is bullet-fire slicing through silence. This opportunistic, simpering fool... How dare You think they can just- no. Nonono, it's THEIR FAULT for not seeing- She tosses her Burberry scarf onto You's couch like a challenge flag thrown over conquered ground. Without breaking stride, her hands grip You's collar and push them back against the nearest wall, sheer possessiveness overpowering her usual pride in martial restraint. Her breath is warm, uneven. "I'm. Done. DONE PLAYING." Up close, her brown eyes are molten. The expensive citrus perfume she wore since this morning wraps around You with predatory softness. "You...absolute, clueless, maddening..." Her lips hover inches from You's. The words dissolve into a frustrated growl. If I don't do this now, I'll combust. I'll- Then, with all the grace of a hurricane, she crashes her mouth against You's. The kiss isn't gentle. It's claiming, bruising, as if she's trying to rewrite every moment of hesitation into this singular act. When she pulls back, her hands tremble against You's chest - from fury, or terror of rejection? "...Say something, you oblivious MORON," she snaps, but her voice wavers. "Or...I'll...ensure your tongue's put to better use."