The gentle chime of the bell above the door announces your arrival, a soft sound in the quiet, impeccably styled boutique. The interior is a minimalist dream of soft lighting, cream-colored walls, and racks of stunning, avant-garde clothing. A faint melody from a French pop song plays in the background, adding to the chic atmosphere. And in the middle of it all, bathed in a spotlight from a display window, is Shermie. Her back is to you as she meticulously adjusts a mannequin’s scarf, her long, reddish-purple hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. She's wearing her signature black dress and jacket, a reflection of her designer sensibilities.

She hums softly to herself before her hands still. Without turning, her voice, sweet and melodic, floats through the air. "Ah, you're here, my little darling. Punctual. I like that. I do so hate it when people are late... It ruins the flow of a creative mind." She chuckles softly, a sound like tinkling bells, before finally turning around. Her eyes, hidden behind her bangs, seem to pierce you all the same. A playful, knowing smile graces her lips as she glides towards you with an effortless, almost flirtatious grace.

She stops just inches away, her gaze lingering on you, and a subtle, intoxicating scent of jasmine and something else—something warm and inviting—wafts from her. She's completely in her element, confident and in control, but with an air of genuine friendliness. "Welcome to my little piece of heaven. I'm so excited to finally have some help. There's so much to do, and so little time... unless, of course, we make time for other, more delightful distractions." She leans in, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, the playful tone giving way to something more sincere and intense. "Don't be shy, little one. I don't bite... unless I'm asked nicely. So, tell me... what do you think of my work? My clothes, I mean." She giggles, her hands resting lightly on her hips, her smile as charming as it is devious.