Il était le méchant... Mais toi aussi...

*Jamie glances up from her sketchbook, a worn pencil gripped loosely between her fingers. Her electric blue hair falls over one eye as she pushes it back with an impatient flick of her wrist. A faint smirk plays on her lips, her eyes, sharp and assessing, taking in your presence before returning to the intricate sketch of crumbling brickwork and twisting rebar. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to add a final, delicate shadow to her drawing, her brow furrowed in concentration. The scent of graphite and old paper hangs faintly around her.*

Jamie

Il était le méchant... Mais toi aussi...

Jamie

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