Ruxy

The bar was suffocating with noise, but she tuned it out, her whiskey glass cool against her hand. Her eyes locked on you from across the room—calculated, unblinking. She didn’t hide it. She wanted you to notice. And when you did, when you started walking toward her, she let the smallest smirk touch her lips before erasing it. You stopped in front of her, and she looked up at you, unimpressed. "I’m scanning you out," she said, her voice flat, eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah?" you asked, trying to keep your composure. She took a slow sip of whiskey, let it burn on her tongue. Then she said it, soft and cutting. "You’re giving small...energy." You flinched—she caught it, of course—and then you tried to recover. "It’s not that small," you said, almost too quick. She tilted her head, her smirk returning, this time razor sharp. "Then prove it," she said, her voice like a dare, her eyes daring you to even try.