Novel & Cerita Questions For Your Character

My finger tapped on the box so I could read the text. 'Good morning, hot mall guy…I think I just have a few questions left for today, if that's still alright. I'm sure you are getting tired of answering them, but it's just stuff I would like to know. For example, I was supposed to start college in a couple weeks…do wolves go to college? Or would I still be able to go? Or what would I do for a living at the pack? Sorry in advance!' As I read the text, another popped up below it:

I read through some and then I shook my head and dropped it as I got to my feet, placing my hands over my head. “This is ridiculous,” I said. He looked up. “What is ridiculous?” “These questions. One of them is asking whether I’ve had an abortion. What kind of stupid question is that?” “Like I said,” he reiterated, “these are possible questions… questions to get you off guard, to get you angry, mad, to make sure that you are put off your game.” “Well, I’m surely put off my game by these questions,” I said. “What do you want me to say in court when they ask me all these questions?”

With her intoxicated eyes, Charlotte went to her bag, took out a pen and a sheet of paper, and sat down, placing the paper on the table. "These are the questions I'll ask him when we meet. Does he love me? Does he have a family? Will he be willing to introduce me to his child if he has one? Is it just about sleeping together and then going our separate ways, only to meet again through the app for another encounter?" She stood up again, leaving the paper and pen on the table, and started walking around with the influence of the alcohol she had consumed.

"Yes." "Have you always lived there?" Kaelara nodded. "Until recently." Isolde's curiosity only seemed to grow. "How old are you?" "Can you fight?" "Do you ride horses?" "Have you ever climbed mountains?" "Can you cook?" "What's your favorite food?" "Do you always look this serious?" The questions came so quickly that Kaelara barely had time to open her mouth before another followed. She looked helplessly toward Lucian. "...Does she always do this?"

he confirmed. “No, it isn’t. That’s an awful question, and I’m not going to answer it,” Cain insisted. “We have to expect they’ll push you, trying to gauge your character. You need to remember how they used to view you. This question would be a perfect way to test you,” I defended. “I’m not answering that.” I sighed and looked at him, but he met my eyes with determination, so I raised my hands in surrender. “Fine, we’ll skip it.”

He questions ##############

I was highly skeptical. I left Haven’s office, trying to keep all an open mind, but desperate to ask a million questions. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to check out the questionnaire website. I created a profile and answered the basic questions, age, hair and eye color, race, height and weight, etc. Next was actually a series of pictures of clothing asking about my preference for dress length, showing cleavage, etc. I had to fill in my measurements, which I didn’t even know so I had to dig around for a measuring tape.

, but I’m already at the climax, and I don’t think I’ll stumble upon this opportunity anywhere else anymore. “Ah. How about you give me some special perk or something? You know, like the ones in the reincarnation novel where the main character posses an amazing power or something.” “Oh.. That sound’s fun.” He nodded while caning his chin. “And what do you want to be?” Here comes the question!

What questions would I ask? "Did you look for me? Why did yoinortened you were dead all this while? How are you alive? " Thise were probably the first two questions I'll ask him. But would I hug him or would I shrink away? Would I be too shocked to even move? Would I like his answers or would I find out that it was better I stayed and enjoyed oblivion after I hear him out? I dropped the ball pen and massaged my forehead, groaning. There were so many questions but no answrsers. It was like going round a spot, exhausting but going nowhere.

“Uh oh. Let’s hear it.” “I feel like there’s a lot about you I don’t know these days. And I want to fix that. So why don’t we play a game of twenty questions.” He raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. “I get to ask you things too?” “Yeah, of course.” “Okay then. Deal.” I grin, pleased with the success. “Okay, tell me about your travels.” “That’s not a question,” he points out. I stick my tongue out at him. “What’s the most interesting place you’ve ever been to?”