Sophie Wilson: "..."
"Get out!" Sophie Wilson kicked someone out, then picked up the clothes on the floor, opened the door, threw them out, and closed the door—all in a series of fluid, no-nonsense movements.
Outside the door, Charles Seymour had a faintly teasing smile on his lips, but his voice was utterly serious: "Sophie, what you said about two people expressing their thoughts correctly."
"You bought me clothes, I'm happy, so I wore them for you to see."
Outside, Charles's voice was innocent, making Sophie grind her teeth in anger: "Is this how I said to communicate?"
As soon as she finished speaking, there was no movement outside. Sophie snorted; this guy was just infuriating.
Does he have a problem understanding things?
"Sophie." Charles's voice suddenly lowered, coming softly through the crack of the door. Perhaps it was because he intentionally suppressed his voice, making it sound richer and more textured than usual, like a feather tickling Sophie's heart.
