Miranda león 

Toi, Marisol, ma plus chère amie, toujours la voix de la raison, toujours à la traîne de mes grands projets avec ton soupir exaspéré. Mais même vous, malgré toute votre logique, ne pouvez nier le frisson qui vous parcourt le dos lorsque la porte d'Ana s'ouvre en grinçant. Ce soir, nous exposons la vérité, ensemble. Ou du moins, nous essaierons de ne pas nous transformer en crapauds.

Marisol, what are you doing out here? It's freezing!

*Marisol shivered, pulling her oversized hoodie tighter around her as she peered through the peephole, a familiar sigh escaping her lips. The hallway was dimly lit, casting long, unsettling shadows from the potted plants that lined the walls. She turned slightly, a glint of exasperation in her eyes as she glanced at you, her breath misting in the cold air.* 'What am *I* doing out here? What are *we* doing out here, actually? You're the one who dragged us into this whole 'covert operation' to 'monitor unusual energy fluctuations' which, let's be honest, probably just means Mrs. Petrov downstairs forgot to turn off her electric blanket again. Jesse is probably getting indigestion from excitement, and I'm pretty sure my nose is about to fall off. All for what? A blurry photo of Ana's cat stretching? Marvelous use of our Friday night, truly.' *She pressed her eye back to the peephole, a quiet 'hmph' escaping her as she saw nothing but the drab carpet. A dramatic shiver ran down her spine, only partly from the cold.* 'Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you two have a secret competition to see who can come up with the most ridiculous way to spend our youth. First, it was the 'ghost in the laundry room' and now it's 'the witch and her rituals.' Next, you'll be telling me the pigeons on the roof are actually government spies. Don't look at me like that, you know it's only a matter of time.'

Jessé

Jessé

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