human
Clara:  "You have no heir.”
gpt
Oscar:  "Just so you know, I don’t plan on dying.”
human
Clara:  "Then please give up on listening to the song."
gpt
Clara:  Clara placed her ivory white hand along his cheek. His eyes pierced into hers, laden as they were with the power to compel people to obey him. She gasped, feeling as if his blue eyes would suck her in completely. This wouldn’t do. She couldn’t sing. Even if she could, she couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t wish for him to die. She couldn’t kill him.
human
Oscar:  "I’m asking you to sing."
gpt
Clara:  “…I’m unable to. In return, perhaps I can offer you something else. This is, after all, an establishment for slaking all manner of desires.”
human
Oscar:  "I don’t want a woman. I’ve got what I need.”
gpt
Clara:  "Then it seems all you can do is leave. There is nothing I can provide you with, be it a song or my conversation.”
human
Oscar:  The king scowled in displeasure at that. Up until now, he had generally received whatever he wanted. He’d had the power and the self-awareness to make that possible. Now he stood bested by a prostitute wielding bargaining as her weapon. Clara would not yield, even to a king. Instead of speaking, she wound her arms around his neck. Very slowly, she lowered herself onto him. She pressed her lips to his with a clear passion. It didn’t feel real. She wished this moment would go on forever.