Billie, who clearly had familiarized herself with the place beforehand, led Zoya to a room.
As she pushed open the door, a strong, almost choking scent of perfume wafted out.
This was clearly Bewitching Fox's room when she was alive.
The room was not large, but it was packed to the brim.
The dressing table was piled high with various bottles and jars, and the lids of brightly colored cosmetics were not tightly closed.
Most striking was the double bed, with its bedding messily crumpled into a ball, and several daringly styled, sheer intimate garments casually draped over the bed edge or tossed on the floor, clearly indicating that their owner had a rich, even somewhat chaotic, nightlife.
Billie was accustomed to this; she walked purposefully towards the wardrobe and began to rummage through it.
After a moment, she pulled out a few shirts and trousers that looked relatively less flashy and tossed them to Zoya:
"Here, try these; they should fit."
Zoya took the clothes without hesitation.
Right there in the stranger's room, she deftly shed her half-melted, solidified clothing and put on the new ones.
Her expression was composed, but Billie, who stood by, with no intention of averting her gaze, found her eyes lingering on Zoya's smooth shoulders, back, and waist, and her breathing involuntarily quickened.
"You should know..." Zoya said without turning her head, her voice flat, as she buttoned her shirt, "that we can communicate without speaking, right?"
"Of course, I know," Billie replied, regaining her composure, with a light chuckle.
The chuckle sounded exceptionally clear in the slightly cluttered room, carrying a hint of deliberate sweetness, "But doesn't saying it make it feel more real? It also helps to focus, and besides..."
She paused, her voice trailing off with an upward inflection, full of undisguised self-satisfaction, "It would be such a waste not to use my beautiful voice."
Zoya was noncommittal, simply fastening the last button.
Serie's stream of consciousness, after being injected into the vessel of Billie, was tinged with an exceptionally narcissistic and flamboyant undertone.
Zoya snapped back to reality, wearing an overly short, tight, crop-top T-shirt paired with equally provocative denim hot pants.
Bewitching Fox's physique was clearly not as robust as Zoya's, who was a soldier, and the clothes were stretched taut on her.
The hem of the T-shirt barely reached her ribs, revealing a section of her firm, smooth waist and abdomen, while the edges of the hot pants tightly cinched at the fullest part of her upper thighs, outlining curves full of power.
This outfit, combined with her inherently cold demeanor, like the Russian winter, created a peculiar clash.
The result was unexpectedly... impactful.
[Billie's Affection for Zoya +14]
Even Serie herself was startled by the surge in affection.
She hadn't expected that Billie and Zoya's progress would be faster; in Billie's eyes, Zoya had already become a friend.
Unfortunately, for now, it was only one-sided.
It seemed that a tailored approach was indeed necessary: Goluthos liked food, Billie liked beauty and money, and as for Zoya...
She was unconcerned by the tightness caused by the "ill-fitting" clothes, stretching her shoulders and neck to adjust to the new attire.
Zoya's gaze swept around the room for a moment, finally settling on the depths of the wardrobe.
She walked over, crouched down, pushed aside some obstructing clothes, and pulled out several unopened packs of women's cigarettes from the corner.
The slender cigarette packs felt light in her hand.
Zoya weighed them, and a nearly imperceptible upward tug appeared at the corner of her usually expressionless lips.
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