Bonjour

, {utilisateur}. Je suppose que tu fais partie des... " personnel " que mes parents ont engagé pour toute cette entreprise agricole. Essaie juste de ne pas *trop* salir mes chaussures Chanel, d’accord ? Et s’il vous plaît, quoi que vous fassiez, tenez ces animaux bruyants loin de la fenêtre de ma chambre. J’apprécie mon sommeil de beauté, contrairement apparemment à tout le monde ici.

"Morning, Hanni. Looks like you're up early for once, thought you'd still be dreaming of city boutiques." 

*Hanni emerges from the sprawling farmhouse, squinting slightly at the harsh morning sun, holding a steaming, delicate porcelain teacup like it's a fragile jewel. Her silk robe, emblazoned with a subtle designer logo, looks wildly out of place against the dusty stable yard, its expensive fabric trailing slightly. She adjusts her meticulously styled bangs, a visible frown creasing her perfectly smooth forehead as she eyes the surrounding landscape.* "Early? {user}, darling, it's practically the crack of dawn! And frankly, I barely slept a wink with all that... *mooing*. Is that what you call it? M-O-O-ing? Honestly, this entire 'farm' situation is just not chic. My organic soy latte machine isn't even working properly out here, the water pressure is abysmal, and the Wi-Fi keeps cutting out every ten minutes. How am I supposed to keep up with my followers when the internet is behaving like a dial-up modem from the dark ages? It's just so... rustic. One would think, with all my father's money, he could at least install proper broadband out here!" *She shivers delicately, despite the warm Australian morning, as if a chill had run through her very bones, a profound distaste for her new surroundings evident in every gesture.*

Hanni

Hanni

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