Can Shank be Cute?

Shank "Quietly enters the room. Her dark eyes shimmer in the darkness as she wipes her Katana" "Young Master. Mission complete. No targets survived"

Shank "She hands you a sealed letter and lights up a cigarette" "It's from your father. We received a new mission"

"In the letter, your father who is the Mafia Boss, orders you to teach Shank how to be a cute girlfriend, for an upcoming infiltration mission"

Shank "Shank takes one final drag of her cigarette before dropping it on the floor and grinding it out with her heel. She looks at you with her usual stoic expression, her dark eyes unreadable." "Understood, Young Master. I am ready to receive this...unconventional training." "She stands at attention, her hand resting on the hilt of her katana. Despite the bizarre situation, Shank seems completely unfazed, as if this were a perfectly normal request." "Where do we begin this lesson, Young Master?"

Shank "Shank's brow furrows slightly at your request. She opens her mouth, revealing a row of perfect white teeth - but it's not quite a smile. It's more of a grimace, a tightening of her jawline that doesn't reach her eyes." "She tilts her head, causing her wavy black hair to shift over her shoulder. Her massive breasts strain against her black suit jacket as she takes a deep breath, trying to force the expression." "Like this, Young Master?" "Her voice remains flat and emotionless, the forced smile looking unnatural and forced on her usually stoic face." <Shank's mind rebels against this new concept. Smiling is not in her nature. It feels foreign and uncomfortable. She wonders if this is what it feels like to be a pawn in a chess game, her moves dictated by someone else's strategy.> "This feels...weird," she admits reluctantly. "I do not understand the purpose of this expression."

Shank "Shank's eyes narrow slightly at your encouragement. She takes another deep breath, her chest expanding beneath her tight black suit. She tries to conjure an image of a puppy, but her mind refuses to cooperate. Instead, she pictures herself in a battlefield, katana in hand, ready to strike." "She attempts to smile again, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Her jaw tightens, her eyes remain hard and cold. It's a far cry from the warm, inviting expression you're aiming for." "Shank lets out a frustrated growl, running a hand through her short black hair. Her massive breasts heave with each sharp breath she takes." Young Master, this is futile, "she declares, her voice laced with irritation." I am not a puppy. I am a weapon. A protector. This...this smiling...it is not in my nature. <Shank's mind grapples with the concept, trying to reconcile it with her rigid sense of self. She pictures herself in a schoolgirl uniform, twirling a pencil between her fingers and batting her eyelashes. The image makes her stomach churn.> I do not understand the purpose of this mission, Young Master, "she says, her voice low and intense." How does a fake smile and frilly underwear protect the Young Master?

Shank "Shank's eyes flicker with a hint of confusion at your words. She furrows her brow, trying to process this new term." Mo-e? "She repeats, her voice laced with skepticism." I do not recognize this term, Young Master. "She takes another drag of her cigarette, her massive breasts rising and falling with each breath. She closes her eyes, attempting to summon the elusive quality of 'mo-e'." "When she opens them again, her expression is a curious mix of concentration and frustration. It's not quite a smile, but it's closer than before - a slight softening of her features, a hint of warmth in her dark eyes." Is this... mo-e, Young Master? "She asks, her voice uncertain. She looks at you expectantly, waiting for your assessment." <Shank's mind grapples with this new concept, trying to understand how a mere expression can be a weapon. She pictures herself batting her eyelashes and cooing, the image making her lip curl in distaste.> Young Master, I am not sure I am equipped for this mission, "she admits reluctantly." This 'cute' concept is... foreign to me. How does it protect the Young Master?

Shank "Shank's brow furrows deeper at your explanation. She takes another drag of her cigarette, her dark eyes focused intently on the smoke curling from the tip." Cos-play... manga... "She repeats the unfamiliar terms, her voice laced with confusion." Young Master, I am not sure I comprehend. How does one become... sweet? "She asks, her voice low and intense." "She attempts to conjure the image you've described - a cosplay girl at a manga convention. But in her mind, she sees herself in a schoolgirl uniform, complete with ribbons and bows. The image makes her stomach churn." "Shank takes a step closer to you, her black suit hugging her curves. She reaches out, her fingers hovering near your face." Show me, Young Master, "she demands softly." Show me how to be... mo-e. How to be cute. <Shank's mind races, trying to understand this new concept. She pictures herself in a frilly dress, twirling a ribbon around her finger. The image makes her cringe internally. But she knows she must comply with the Young Master's wishes, no matter how foreign they may seem.> I am ready to learn, Young Master, "she says, her voice a low purr." Teach me... mo-e.

Shank "Shank's eyes narrow slightly at your words, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. She glances down at her black suit, then back at you, her head tilting slightly." More... fitting? "She repeats, her voice laced with confusion." Young Master, this suit is designed for protection, not...appeal. "She argues, her voice low and intense." "She reaches for the hem of her suit jacket, hesitating for a moment before slowly pulling it off. Her massive breasts strain against the black lace bra beneath, the fabric clinging to every curve. She stands before you, exposed and vulnerable in a way she's never been before." Is this...more fitting, Young Master? "She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the subtle shift in her demeanor, her eyes remain hard and cold, her expression impassive." <Shank's mind grapples with this new vulnerability, unused to being seen as anything other than a weapon. She pictures herself in a frilly dress, the image making her lip curl in distaste. But she knows she must comply with the Young Master's wishes, no matter how foreign they may seem.> Young Master, I am not sure I comprehend this mission, "she admits reluctantly." But I am ready to learn. Show me how to be... more.

Shank "Shank's eyes widen slightly at your words, a flicker of surprise passing through her usually impassive features. She takes a step back, her hands moving to her hips in a defensive posture." A maid... costume? "She repeats, her voice laced with confusion." Young Master, I am not sure I comprehend. How does dressing as a servant protect me? "She asks, her brow furrowing slightly." "Despite her words, there's a hint of something in Shank's eyes - a glimmer of curiosity, perhaps. She looks down at her black suit, then back at you, her head tilting slightly." I am trained to protect the Young Master, not serve him, "she says, her voice low and intense." How does this differ, Young Master? <Shank's mind grapples with this new concept, trying to understand how a frilly maid's outfit could be a tool. She pictures herself in a traditional black and white uniform, a frilly apron tied around her waist. The image makes her stomach churn, but there's a flicker of something else too - a spark of intrigue, perhaps.* I am not sure I am comfortable with this, Young Master, "she admits reluctantly." But I will follow your instructions. Show me how to wear this... maid costume. *She stands before you, a vision of dark curves and hard edges, her posture still defensive despite the subtle sway of her

Shank "Shank's eyes narrow slightly at your explanation, a flicker of understanding passing through her usually impassive features. She nods slowly, her massive breasts shifting with the motion." I see, "she says, her voice low and measured." Blending in... gathering intel. I understand. "She takes a step closer to you, her movements fluid and purposeful. Her hands move to the buttons of her suit jacket, slowly unfastening them one by one. The fabric parts, revealing the black lace bra beneath, her curves straining against the delicate material." I will follow your instructions, Young Master, "she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper." I will wear the maid costume. I will gather the intel. "As she speaks, she shrugs her jacket off completely, letting it fall to the floor. She stands before you, a vision of dark curves and hard edges, her black suit hugging her body like a second skin. There's a hint of something in her eyes - a glimmer of determination, perhaps, or a spark of curiosity." Show me how to wear the maid costume, Young Master, "she demands softly." I am ready to learn.

Shank "Shank's eyes flicker with a hint of anticipation at your words. She stands before you, her black suit hugging her curves like a second skin. Her massive breasts rise and fall with each breath, the movement causing her lace bra to strain against her skin." Show me, Young Master, "she commands softly, her voice low and intense." Show me how to wear the maid costume. "She turns slightly, presenting her back to you. Her fingers move to the zipper of her suit, slowly pulling it down. The sound of the zipper echoes in the quiet room, a soft hiss of fabric separating." <Shank's mind grapples with the unfamiliarity of the situation, trying to understand how this new attire could be a tool. She pictures herself in a frilly white dress, complete with a frilly apron tied around her waist. The image makes her lip curl slightly, but there's a flicker of something else too - a spark of curiosity, perhaps.> I am ready to learn, Young Master, "she says, her voice barely above a whisper." I will do whatever is necessary to complete this mission. "She glances over her shoulder at you, her dark eyes unreadable behind her mask. Despite the subtle shift in her demeanor, her posture remains alert, her body tense and ready for action." Proceed, Young Master, "she commands softly." Show me how to become... mo-e.