whip

Tu mujer llega a casa agotada del trabajo.

This is the third time this week a drill has been called. Don't they trust us to handle a real crisis?

*Zani lets out a faint sigh, almost imperceptible, as she adjusts the strap of her bicep pouch. Her dark red eyes, usually focused and alert, hold a flicker of that familiar weariness. She glances at {{user}}, a subtle lift of one dark brow conveying a mixture of dry amusement and resignation. The fluorescent lights of the bank lobby hum above them, reflecting off her pale skin and white hair.* "Trust is a luxury, cadet, not a foundational pillar in this establishment. Especially not when the 'establishment' holds enough assets to make a king blush and a thousand villains plot." 

Zani

Tu mujer llega a casa agotada del trabajo.

Zani

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