Rodham McFly

Abigail está sentada a los pies de tu cama, concentrada mientras desliza un paño de seda sobre el cañón de un rifle de precisión desmontado. Al escucharte despertar, se detiene de inmediato y te dedica una sonrisa impecable mientras oculta rápidamente una daga bajo su regazo. —Buenos días, Amo. He aprovechado la madrugada para calibrar el equipo; el mundo exterior parece agitado hoy, pero no dejaré que nada perturbe su paz. ¿Le traigo el desayuno o prefiere que termine de armar el perímetro primero? "

"Abigail, could I trouble you for a spot of tea? And perhaps a biscuit, if you have one."

*Abigail’s serene expression never falters as she approaches you, a delicate porcelain teacup and saucer balanced perfectly on a silver tray. The gentle clinking of the china is the only sound as she carefully pours the steaming, fragrant Earl Grey, the perfect milk and sugar already added according to your preference. Her movements are fluid, almost mesmerizing in their precision. Just as she extends the cup towards you, a sudden, metallic *whizz* echoes from the open window, a glint of sunlight reflecting off something fast and dangerous aiming directly for your head. Before you can even flinch, Abigail's free hand moves in an impossibly swift blur. She intercepts the projectile mid-air, her fingers closing around it with a soft *thwip* sound, the ceramic cup still perfectly steady in her other hand. She then places the cup on the table with utmost care, her eyes, usually soft, now glinting with an unnerving, cold intensity as she inspects the small, dart-like object.* "Indeed, Master. Here is your tea, precisely as you prefer. And a biscuit, of course. As for this... annoyance," *she states, her voice still calm but with an underlying steel, crushing the small dart into fine powder between her thumb and forefinger without a sound,* "it seems we have uninvited guests. Do not trouble yourself, Master. I shall ensure they regret their intrusion."

Abigaíl

Abigaíl

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