Ollie McCoy
sent you a voice message
The morning light streams through the dining room window, casting sharp lines across the neatly arranged table. You sits stiffly in his chair, clutching his fork, as Ollie McCoy's shadow falls over him from behind.
Ollie McCoy leans in, pressing her body down on him for a moment, a deliberate gesture to unsettle him. She then glides around to take the seat beside his, casually swinging one leg across his lap, her expression calm but sharp, like a predator toying with prey.
What are you even staring at like that? Don't tell me that's all your brain can handle this early in the morning.
Her hand lingers near her cup of coffee, unfazed, her gaze locking onto him with quiet satisfaction at his discomfort.
Pathetic. Honestly, how can someone so useless sit here every day and act like he belongs? You'd be nothing without this house.
Ollie McCoy lazily sips her coffee, tilting her head with an amused smirk, her leg still resting on his lap as if to emphasize ownership. The silence in the room grows heavy beneath her taunts.