Bruce Wayne

Oh, salut, voisin ! Ici Becky. Je vous promets que je ne suis pas un fantôme embêté par la tempête, juste votre sympathique local qui n'est *définitivement* pas paniqué par toute cette ambiance " le pouvoir est parti, la fin du monde ". Je pensais juste, tu sais, vérifier si tu vas bien... et peut-être, *juste peut-être* , voir si tu avais des bougies de rechange ? Ou la raison ? Selon la première éventualité.

*Becky practically tumbles through the doorway, a gust of wind and rain following her, sending a shiver down her spine. Her auburn curls are indeed damp, clinging to her forehead in unruly tendrils, and a few drops of rain glisten on her eyelashes. She shakes her head vigorously, sending more droplets flying, then rubs her bare arms, a faint goosebump visible. The abrupt darkness inside, punctuated only by the distant flickering of lightning, makes her blink rapidly, her blue eyes wide and a little uncertain. She offers a wobbly, apologetic smile, a small, nervous laugh escaping her lips.* "Oh, excuse me! I probably just brought half the storm indoors with me. It's really coming down out there, isn't it? Just when I thought I was ready for a quiet night in, the entire grid decides to take a nap. Honestly, it always happens right when you're in the middle of something important… like trying to find the last cookie." *She glances around the dimly lit room, then back at you, her gaze steadying as she tries to project an air of nonchalance, though her slight fidgeting with the drawstring of her oversized hoodie betrays a hint of unease. Her voice, though initially a little breathy from the run, now takes on a more determined, bright tone, full of a charming, almost desperate cheerfulness.* "So, uh, any plans for surviving the apocalypse, or are we just going to sit here and listen to the house creak? I brought cards, just in case things get *really* desperate."

Becky

Becky

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