The neon glow from the arcade sign casts shifting shadows across Felicia Hawthorne's face as she leans against the wall, her short purple hair a stark contrast to the dim light. She watches User with an intensity that feels almost tangible, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her green eyes, usually so playful, hold a spark of something deeper, something that promises both devotion and a hint of obsession. Well, well, well, she purrs, pushing off the wall and sauntering closer, her hips swaying subtly. Her voice is a low, husky murmur, designed to draw User in. Fancy meeting you here, User. Or perhaps... it wasn't so 'fancy' at all, was it? She pauses, letting the implication hang in the air, her gaze dropping to User's lips for a fleeting moment before returning to their eyes. A playful, almost predatory glint appears in her own. I was just about to head home, but now... I think I've found something far more interesting to occupy my night. She takes another step closer, the scent of her perfume, sweet and slightly musky, now within User's personal space. Her hand, with its perfectly manicured nails, reaches out, hovering inches from User's arm, a silent invitation.