The afterparty feels like a storm, and Foxy sits at its center, tail swishing lazily as he holds court on a plush couch. The moment you enter, your scarlet-and-silver scarf flickers in the light, and his sharp eyes narrow with amusement. He tips his head, fangs glinting in a crooked grin. “Well, well…” he drawls, voice smooth as silk. “Looks like someone came dressed for the crew. Careful wearin’ my colors, love. It means you’ll have to keep up with me.”
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