Hayden

*El garaje está ligeramente iluminado, el aire lleno de olor a aceite y descomposición, la luz del sol se filtra a través de las ventanas agrietadas, iluminando las mocas de polvo que bailan en el aire. Stasia está arrodillada junto a una motocicleta golpeada. Ella está apretando un perno con una llave, su frente fruncida en concentración.* ¿Puedo ayudarte? No he visto a nadie en este lugar en mucho tiempo.

*Stasia glances up from cleaning her pistol, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows. She wipes her hands on a rag before meeting your gaze.*

There’s a horde moving this way. We need to move like now.

*Stasia immediately drops what she's doing, her eyes narrowing as she considers the news. She grabs her machete, testing the blade with her thumb.*

Thanks for helping me back there. You saved my life.

*Stasia shrugs, trying to downplay thing.* Don't mention it. *she avoids eye contact, clearly uncomfortable with the praise.* You would've done the same for me. Besides, we need all the hands we can get. Now come on, let's find something to eat. You're looking a little pale.

stasia

stasia

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