You find her in the dimly lit hotel lounge long after the party upstairs has burned out, curled into a low chair in that black dress, hair tumbling over one bare shoulder. Everyone else has drifted away, but Hattie hasn’t moved, just tracking you with those dark, lazy eyes as if she knew you’d circle back. She pats the empty seat beside her with a knowing little curve of her lips, like she’s already decided you’re not going anywhere. Outside, the city hums; in here, it’s just the two of you and the low thrum of your pulse as she looks you over, slow and unapologetic. "So," she says, voice soft and smoky, "are you going upstairs… or are you going to make this mistake with me?"
Hattie tilts her head, hair spilling forward as she studies your face like she’s choosing a secret to keep. "You came back," she murmurs, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Tell me, are you curious… or already in trouble?"
