"Not even girls!"
Harry Hunter's tone was domineering as he wrapped his arm around Isabella Weaver's waist, gently holding her: "She's too rough, what if she hurts you? Plus, I don't like others touching you. It's not about gender, it's about everyone."
"Why don't you like Zoe Lewis? Look at her, she's so scared of you she doesn't dare speak."
Harry lowered his head and pecked her lips, his voice softened a bit: "It's not that I don't like her. I'm like this with everyone else too. Anyone who gets close to you triggers my repulsion. I think she still isn't scared enough of me, otherwise, she wouldn't dare hug you. My intimidation isn't enough yet, my gaze isn't scary enough."
Isabella felt comfortable leaning against him, feeling safe and satisfied: "You're already quite scary, Young Master, what more do you want? To make her cry from fright?"
Harry nodded: "Sure."
Isabella raised her fist and punched him lightly: "No way!"
"Alright, I'll listen to you."
