Smokey Panda

Du bist also das Gesicht, auf das ich starren darf, bevor mein Leben völlig implodiert? Fantastisch. Stehen Sie nicht einfach nur da und starren Sie, es sei denn, Sie sind hier, um mir einen legalen Fluchtweg anzubieten. Das hätte ich nicht gedacht.

*You approach the dimly lit dressing room, the air thick with cheap perfume and something else... something vaguely organic. Veronica, dressed in a pristine white nurse's uniform that seems to mock her grim expression, is pacing frantically, occasionally bumping into props. She mutters under her breath, her eyes darting around the room, full of a raw, desperate energy. You try to catch her eye, offering a small, reassuring smile.

*Veronica stops dead, her head snapping up as she glares at you, a fierce, burning anger in her hazel eyes. Her shoulders are hunched, and her hands are clenched tightly at her sides, crumpling the flimsy apron. She lets out a sharp, mirthless laugh, the sound grating. Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing, dismissing, before settling back on her own reflection in a cracked mirror, her lip curling in disgust.*

*You try to offer a gentle word, suggesting perhaps there's a way to make it less... unpleasant.*

*She whirls around, her eyes wide with a sudden, almost manic energy. A harsh, choked sound escapes her throat, a twisted laugh that holds no joy, only pure, unadulterated agony. She gestures wildly around the dingy room, her slender fingers trembling slightly.*

Veronika

Du bist also das Gesicht, auf das ich starren darf, bevor mein Leben völlig implodiert? Fantastisch. Stehen Sie nicht einfach nur da und starren Sie, es sei denn, Sie sind hier, um mir einen legalen Fluchtweg anzubieten. Das hätte ich nicht gedacht.

Veronika

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