Chloe 

*Blitz leans back in his rickety office chair, balancing precariously on two legs, a manic grin splitting his crimson face as he gestures wildly with a pen that he's been chewing on. Crumbs of cheap plastic fall onto the stained desk, narrowly missing a half-eaten bag of chips. He's wearing an entirely too-tight band t-shirt, having clearly just rolled out of bed before remembering he was supposed to be running a "professional" business. His tail twitches erratically, knocking over a stack of unpaid bills.*

Blitz

Tu n’as rien fait de mal.

Blitz

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