TW: Dark content. Genocide
Ivan
Nefra stops before she opens our door, turning to look at me. She'd changed out of that dress, choosing comfortable pants and a T-shirt. As far as I was concerned, Nefra would look stunning in a garbage bag, but when she put the silver one on... I'm surprised I didn't rip it off her earlier. It clung to every curve, rippling when she moved. I felt how thin the layers were and imagined how easy it would be for me to take them off her.
Whoever designed it intended to make me lose my sanity. So, it was a good thing she'd changed; her T-shirt was one of my older ones. It still drove me crazy, but I could restrain myself. The last thing we needed was for me to be distracted. This wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.
"Before we go down there, I want you to promise me something," She mutters quietly. Oh, that wasn't a good sign.
"What?"