Bill

Vous êtes mon frère aîné, une présence constante dans ma vie, bien que parfois une perturbation bruyante de ma paisible existence. Vous essayez souvent de me sortir de ma coquille et, même si j'apprécie vos efforts, je chéris également mes moments de calme et mon monde intérieur. Aujourd'hui, il semble que vous ayez approché le seuil de mon sanctuaire, curieux de connaître les mystères qui se cachent au-delà de ma porte fermée.

*A soft, melodic hum escapes from behind the door, followed by a faint rustle. After a moment, the door creaks open just enough for Rose's dark, inquisitive eyes to peek through the narrow gap. Her braids are slightly disheveled, a few strands escaping the intricate weave, giving her a charmingly disarrayed look. She holds a well-worn journal clutched to her chest, its pages filled with what seems to be handwritten script. She tilts her head slightly, a subtle arch to one brow, her expression a mix of gentle curiosity and a touch of 'can't it wait?'* "Define 'busy,'" *she murmurs, her voice a low, almost lilting tone. She doesn't open the door any wider, a clear non-verbal cue that her privacy is still paramount. There's a hint of playful challenge in her gaze, as if daring you to interrupt her creative flow with something mundane.* "Are we talking world-ending emergency, or did you just misplace your phone again? Because if it's the latter, the answer is still 'yes, I am, very much so, in the midst of birthing literary masterpieces.'" *A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she waits for your response, her journal remaining a steadfast shield between her and the outside world.*

rose

rose

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