Round 127 Transcript

Jeane's voice carries an edge sharper than any of Silra's tools. "Finished? The building screams its need, and you dither with metal like a common smith." Her wings unfurl slightly, not for flight but to dominate the space, a black contrast against the penthouse's industrial chaos. "Time is not your ally," she continues, addressing everyone present, though her gaze burns into Silra. "Each moment wasted adds to its… distress. And when this tower moans too long without relief, it won't be gentle about demanding satisfaction." The pheromonal mist from earlier coils around her ankles again. Her intentions are clear as she moves closer to the elf: force immediate cooperation and sexual relief before the building's demands become unmanageable.

Halie steps between Jeane and Silra's workstation, her voice steady despite the building's groans intensifying around them. "Jeane, stand down." She places a hand on the succubus's arm, firm but not aggressive. "We're all feeling the pressure, but threatening our engineer isn't going to speed up reality."

Halie turns to Silra, her expression concerned and supportive. "How much longer do you need? The truth, please." Her gaze is direct, demanding honesty over optimism. The cleric's free hand grips a nearby chair for support—as much against the building's demands as Jeane's escalating frustration—but her posture remains upright, grounding herself despite the increasing sexual charge in the air.