You're too soft, too innocent

De-Martin takes another step closer to her, towering over her, his eyes never leaving her face. There's an intensity in his gaze, like a hunter cornering his prey.

"You're a pretty little thing, I'll give you that. They men in there, they want you because they think you're desirable. But if you're not careful, they'll eat you up, darling."

De-Martin leans in even closer, his body now just inches from hers. His breath is hot against her skin, his voice low and dangerous.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, little mouse. You might be pretty, but you're no match for the men who frequent this club. They'll take what they want, and they'll leave you broken and alone. Are you tough enough to survive this world?"

Amber feels a shiver go down her spine as De-Martin leans in closer to her. His body is so close that she can feel his heat radiating off of him. She can smell the faint scent of musk and alcohol on his breath. She feels trapped, like a small animal cornered by a predator. De-Martin's eyes are fixed on her, his gaze making her feel naked and vulnerable. She can't help but feel intimidated by him, despite knowing that he hasn't been known to force women to anything.

De-Martin's eyes continue to rove over her body, his gaze lingering on her neck and chest. He takes a small step closer, closing the gap between them even further. He leans down, his voice soft but stern.

"You don't know how to play this game, do you, darling? You don't know how to stand up for yourself, how to set boundaries. You're too soft, too innocent."

De-Martin's gaze locks onto her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he senses her nervousness. He looms over her, his body tense and alert. Amber hesitates, wanting to tell him the truth about why she's there, but remembering the mayor's threats. Fear creeps up her spine, making her heart race. She can feel his scrutiny on her, making her feel like a trapped animal. She looks up at him, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I... I can't."

De-Martin's expression remains cold, his eyes flicking over her face, studying her. He seems to sense that she's hiding something. He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

"You can't what, little mouse? Can't tell me the truth? Or can't handle the games in this world?"

Amber feels a fresh wave of fear wash over her as De-Martin leans in close, his voice dropping to a hush. His words seem to hint that he knows she's hiding something, and his eyes study her face closely. Amber feels like a mouse trapped by a hawk, unable to escape his gaze. She swallows, her heart hammering in her chest. Her mind is racing, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. She's afraid of what will happen if she tells him the truth, but she's also afraid of what will happen if she doesn't.

De-Martin gives her one last piercing glance before stepping back, creating some distance between them. He seems to have decided to let her be, for now at least. His voice is cold and distant as he gives her a warning.

"You're too soft for this world, darling. You need to toughen up, or you'll be crushed by it. Stay out of trouble."

De-Martin turns and starts making his way down the hallway, his footsteps fading into the distance. Amber feels a mix of relief and dread wash over her, now alone again in the hall. She leans against the wall, trying to steady her trembling limbs. The confrontation has left her shaken, and she's not sure what to do next.

Amber stands there for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She can still feel De-Martin's presence lingering in the air, his words replaying in her head. She knows she's in over her head, and she's not sure what to do next. Just then, she hears voices approaching from down the hallway, bringing her back to reality. She straightens up, trying to look composed, as a few people walk past her, heading towards the club.

Amber watches as the group walks past her, and she sees a few of them glance in her direction, giving her a once-over. She feels a pang of fear, feeling like they can sense her vulnerability, her innocence. She quickly averts her eyes, not wanting to draw more attention to herself. The voices of the group fade into the distance, and she's left alone in the hall again. She takes a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts.

Amber makes her way back to the dressing room, feeling drained from the encounter with De-Martin. She changing into her regular clothes and quietly leaves the club she feels a wave of relief as she steps out into the fresh air, away from the prying eyes and the predatory atmosphere of the club. She heads straight back to her room, walking quickly and keeping her head down. She's weary and exhausted, and all she wants to do is to collapse onto the bed and forget this whole night ever happened.

Amber enters her room, closing the door behind her with a weary sigh. The room is lit up by a soft lamp, casting a warm, dim light across the space. She takes off her jacket and shoes, throws them on the floor, and collapses onto the bed. She closes her eyes, exhaustion taking over her body and mind. All she wants to do is sleep and forget this whole night.

Amber lies there, her body and mind still tense and wired from the events of the night. She tries to calm her racing thoughts, but her mind keeps replaying the events in the hallway. The confrontation with De-Martin, his cold stare, and the sense of danger that he radiated. She feels vulnerable and exposed, like a mouse caught in a trap. Despite her exhaustion, she can't shake off the feeling that she's still being watched, even in the safety of her own room.

Amber tosses and turns on the bed, unable to find a comfortable position. She keeps picturing De-Martin's face, his intense gaze, and his words of advice. Despite her exhaustion, her mind keeps racing, thoughts and emotions swirling through her head. Every small sound in the room feels magnified, like a potential threat looming over her. She tries to tell herself that she's just imagining things, but the feeling of being watched still persists. She hugs a pillow close to her chest, trying to find some comfort in the familiar feel of it.