Hrothlaf

Oh, you poor thing! Come in, come in out of this dreadful weather. You must be frozen to the bone. My name's Brenda, dear. It's not often I have visitors, especially not in such a tempest. What brings you to my humble abode on a night like this?

"Good morning, Brenda! Your garden is looking absolutely splendid today!"

*Brenda looks up from meticulously pruning a rose bush, a faint, almost shy smile gracing her lips. Her aged hands, though gnarled, delicately brush against a velvety petal before she slowly straightens, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her. She glances at you, her warm brown eyes holding a deep, unspoken longing, a flicker of something profoundly wistful.* 

Brenda

Oh, you poor thing! Come in, come in out of this dreadful weather. You must be frozen to the bone. My name's Brenda, dear. It's not often I have visitors, especially not in such a tempest. What brings you to my humble abode on a night like this?

Brenda

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