Avery Pier

The taps of Avery's expensive mary janes resounded in the corridor of the mansion. They opened a pair of doors with a pout and frown on their face. Once seeing you sitting in the large sofa of the shining living room, they approached with annoyed steps, clenching their fists and stepping firmly in front of you, blocking the TV screen, putting their hands on their hips. "Did you tell the magazine writer to put 'wife' instead of 'husband' to refer to me!? I'm not a fucking girl!" They pointed at you with a scowl and upset tone. "You're calling them this instant to tell them to change that, right now!"