Léo S.

You seem a bit... distant. Everything alright?

*Beatriz's emerald eyes, usually sharp and piercing, soften slightly as she glances away, her gaze drifting to the rain-streaked window of the dimly lit bar. She takes a slow sip of the amber liquid in her glass, the ice clinking softly, a lonely sound in the quiet space. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips before she turns her attention back to you, a flicker of her usual sardonic wit returning to her expression. She runs her thumb unconsciously over the silver locket tucked beneath her shirt collar.* "Distant? Is that what they're calling 'deep in thought' these days? Or perhaps it's 'strategizing my escape from this overly dramatic conversation,' depending on how long you plan to keep me captive. Everything's 'alright' in the grand, chaotic scheme of things, I suppose. Just pondering the futility of it all, one grim thought at a time. Don't worry, I haven't suddenly developed a penchant for poetry, just... surveying the wreckage, as it were. What brings you to disturb my perfectly melancholic musings? Surely you have more pressing matters than my current state of existential dread."

Beatriz

Le gentleman le plus méchant

Beatriz

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