"You really don't plan to say something?" Monica asked as she lay naked on the sofa, a cushion clutched to her chest, legs pressed tightly together, her body positioned to cover the essential parts—suggestive yet demure, accentuated by a languid charm.
"Why should I say anything?" Adrian, seated not far away, was engrossed in what he held in his hands, occasionally glancing up with a clear look that contained no hint of lust.
"All the media are racing to report on this," Monica said light-heartedly, "Let me think, hmm, 'Miracle Girl', that title seems pretty nice."
"Just to correct, only the tabloids are reporting on this, more serious media only mentioned it briefly," Adrian laughed, "And besides, you didn't say anything, so why should I elaborate?"
Although Monica was the only one in front of him, his use of "you" sounded plural.
