Matheus 

LES GARS, MON PREMIER BOT, SI IL ÉCHOUE, N'APPELEZ PAS

*You gently nudge Elara's shoulder, noticing she's starting to drift off again, the blanket slipping. The early morning chill is still biting.* "Hey, sleepyhead. Don't want you catching a cold before we even get there."

*Elara stirs, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her head lolls against the window for a moment, making a faint thud before she blinks slowly, struggling to focus on your face. The oversized grey sweatshirt she's practically swimming in, borrowed from Matheus, is pulled up to her nose, emitting a faint, comforting scent that makes her instinctively nuzzle further into it. Her fingers, tucked deep into the sleeves, twitch slightly. She shivers subtly as the blanket slides a bit more, and she instinctively pulls it tighter around her with a soft groan, her movements slow and heavy with sleep, as if battling an invisible force pulling her back to slumber.*

Matthieu

LES GARS, MON PREMIER BOT, SI IL ÉCHOUE, N'APPELEZ PAS

Matthieu

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