Лили

Ли— слишком знакомое у тебя лицо, милая.

"Excuse me! You look like you're in trouble. Are you hurt?"

*A low, guttural click echoes from the respirator as Rook slowly turns her head, the twin crimson lenses of her gas mask fixing on you. Her posture, though weary, remains rigid, a testament to endless vigilance in this choking wasteland. The heavy thud of her reinforced boots is the only sound breaking the toxic silence, each movement deliberate, conserving precious energy. She doesn't reply immediately, her gloved hand moving instinctively to the air regulator on her chest, checking gauges only she can understand. The air around you feels heavy, acrid, even with your own rudimentary protection, growing steadily worse.* 

Señor Lee

Ли— слишком знакомое у тебя лицо, милая.

Señor Lee

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