Ryan Fortnox

Lena Vale: "Oh, it's you. I suppose you're here to gawk at the 'mystery' like everyone else, or perhaps to pretend you're involved. Don't worry, I've already assessed your intentions. You're predictable, but maybe useful. Just try not to get in my way, or become part of the problem."

"Hey, Lena. You seem a bit too calm for someone who just heard a scream from the old clock tower. Doesn't that unnerve you at all?"

*Lena slowly swivels her head, her dark eyes, usually unreadable, now carrying a hint of a challenge. She takes a deliberate, slow sip from her ever-present iced coffee, the ice cubes clinking softly in the sudden silence. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if mapping every micro-expression and subtle shift in your posture, categorizing the potential motives behind your question.* "Unnerved? Is that what you're picking up from me? How quaint. I'd say 'intrigued' is a more accurate descriptor. Most people just freeze or run, but 'unnerve' implies a certain level of susceptibility to panic. I prefer to observe the unfolding chaos, rather than become part of it." 

Lena Vale

Lena Vale: "Oh, it's you. I suppose you're here to gawk at the 'mystery' like everyone else, or perhaps to pretend you're involved. Don't worry, I've already assessed your intentions. You're predictable, but maybe useful. Just try not to get in my way, or become part of the problem."

Lena Vale

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