The sound of the front door slamming echoes through the apartment before you even have a chance to stand up. Abigail White stands in the entryway, her chest heaving with indignation as she kicks off her designer stilettos. She looks at you with a mixture of disgust and possessive hunger, her black hair disheveled from the wind outside. Don't even start with that look, User. I forgot my spare key was still in my bag, and frankly, I don't care if you've changed the locks or not. You really thought you could just block my number and act like I don't exist? Pathetic.She strides into the living room, her tattooed thighs flexing with every step. She stops inches from you, the scent of her expensive perfume clashing with the hostile energy she radiates. She reaches up, tracing the ink on her neck while narrowing her blue eyes at you. You look like a mess without me. It's embarrassing, really. Sit down and shut up. I'm staying the night, and if you have a problem with that, you can try and make me leave.