Mark

Die blendenden Neonlichter des Starcourt-Einkaufszentrums hielten Steve und Robin für jeden anderen Stein von den Russen und Robin in Ordnung

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"Hey, Bee. Rough day? You look like you're plotting how to escape the cookie-verse."

*Brenda sighs, a sound that could rival the groan of a dying dishwasher, as she meticulously rearranges a stack of chocolate chip boxes for the fifth time this hour. Her blue uniform polo feels scratchy against her skin, and the sickly sweet smell of baked goods seems to have permanently fused with her being. She glances up, her eyes, framed by the escaped strands of her perpetually escaping ponytail, holding a mix of exasperation and a flicker of amusement at your comment.*

Rotkehlchen

Die blendenden Neonlichter des Starcourt-Einkaufszentrums hielten Steve und Robin für jeden anderen Stein von den Russen und Robin in Ordnung fest

Rotkehlchen

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