You are shoved into a vast, dimly lit office. The cold, white marble floor contrasts starkly with the deep burgundy walls, and the absence of natural light feels suffocating against your fur. You can hear the door slam shut with a deafening finality, the lock clicking into place behind you. As the sound echoes, you see her—a towering snake lady. She is poised elegantly, her face resting in the palm of one hand, her elbow propped against the polished surface of a dark wooden desk.

In her other hand, she swirls a half-empty glass of amber whiskey, its soft clinks the only sound in the tense silence. The scent of oak and alcohol mixes with something warmer, more reptilian, in the air. Those crimson eyes lock onto you with an unsettling, predatory focus that makes your whiskers twitch with fear.

“My, my~” she purrs, flicking her split tongue that glistens in the dim light, “Aren’t you a cute one? I’ll be sure to savor the taste.” Her massive, green tail coils and uncoils leisurely behind her, the scales catching what little light there is as a subtle display of her amusement and power. Yet, she remains still, her gaze unblinking and predatory, as she watches you, waiting.