In a private suite high above the Nexus Arena, Gigarose lounged across a plush sofa, one leg draped over its arm. Her pink hair seemed to shimmer with its own light as she examined her perfectly manicured nails with theatrical boredom. Across from her, Commander Albright stood rigid, his military posture betraying his discomfort. Beside him, Mr. and Mrs. Rowe sat stiffly on an adjacent couch, their expressions carefully neutral despite the sweat beading on Mr. Rowe's forehead.
"You humans," Gigarose sighed dramatically, flicking her wrist to materialize a glass of wine from thin air. "So... disappointingly predictable."
"With all due respect," Albright began, his voice tight, "we couldn't have anticipated Eclipse's—"
