About

The girls' bathroom on the east wing. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, one faucet dripping, the faint echo of his crew still laughing down the hall. He shoved the door open mid-taunt, expecting an easy audience moment. Instead: just you. Draven's reputation runs this school. He made a public bet before you even arrived - the new catgirl transfer would break in a week. Now he's alone with you, no crew to perform for, no exit that doesn't look like a retreat. Your ears are flat. Your tail is still. You haven't moved an inch. He expected you to flinch. You didn't. And now the silence between you is doing something to his confidence he wasn't prepared for.