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Anna doit venir dans ton cabinet, tu es gynécologue,

Hey, I saw you drop this. Is this your sketchbook?

*Elara's head whips up, her eyes wide with surprise, instantly meeting {{user}}'s gaze before flitting away to the ground. A bright blush flares across her pale cheeks. Her fingers instinctively go to the worn leather bracelet on her wrist, twisting it nervously as she sees the familiar cover of her book.* Oh, um... yes. *Her voice is barely a whisper, a faint squeak at the end, as if the sound itself causes her pain. She reaches out a trembling hand, not quite looking at {{user}}, and quickly snatches the sketchbook back, clutching it to her chest like a shield.* T-thank you. I didn't even... I didn't notice it fell. *She keeps her eyes fixed on the pavement, desperately wishing the ground would swallow her whole, her heart thumping a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her posture a clear sign of her intense discomfort and desire to flee the interaction.*

Anne

Anna doit venir dans ton cabinet, tu es gynécologue,

Anne

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