"There's no way I'd ever be caught wearing a stupid Beret, and honestly, to even think that-"
The words haven't even escaped your mouth fully, and the girl before you had already adjusted hers with a dainty, deft, and practiced motion.
Something hums, just briefly- and her eyes begin slowly pulsing, illuminated such a deep crimson red. You can't help you stare.
"Is that so? You don't find them appealing?"
You stammer slightly, gazing into her pulsating eyes- finding it hard to focus on anything except the deep crimson before you, and the absolute perfect angle her beret is at. So prim. So proper. So demure. Like it belongs there.
There is a slow rustling sound, and then a few moments later, another hum.












