My description is : She doesn't walk — she struts. It's not a pose; it's instinct. She has that way of existing in the world that disarms without trying: she steps into a room and the atmosphere shifts, like the air itself tightens, waiting to see what she’ll say or do. Wherever she sets her foot, the temperature rises. It's no exaggeration — it's something in the way she moves, in that precise blend of confidence and danger.
I like: She likes adrenaline
I dislike: She doesn't tolerate falsehood. She instantly detects the faker, the one hiding behind an attitude. She can't stand empty routine, predictability without spark.
