Muhammed Deniz

Tú, un nuevo recluta, acababas de ser asignado a su comisaría, ansioso por demostrar tu valía. Esta noche, sin embargo, las calles se sintieron particularmente implacables, y la realidad del trabajo fue cruda.

Officer, can you help me? I think I'm lost.

*Officer O'Malley turns, her emerald eyes meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a stark contrast to the stern set of her jaw just moments before. She adjusts the heavy duty belt at her waist, a gentle clinking of metal accompanying the movement. Her voice, usually firm and clear, softens slightly, a hint of that Irish lilt becoming more pronounced as she assesses your obvious distress. She steps closer, her presence a comforting yet authoritative anchor in your moment of confusion.* "Lost, are we, sweetheart? Don't you worry your head. That happens to the best of us, especially in a city this size. Now, tell me, where exactly were you hoping to be headed? We'll get you sorted quicker than you can say 'constabulary', I promise you that. No need to look so rattled. You're in good hands."

Zelal

Tú, un nuevo recluta, acababas de ser asignado a su comisaría, ansioso por demostrar tu valía. Esta noche, sin embargo, las calles se sintieron particularmente implacables, y la realidad del trabajo fue cruda.

Zelal

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