French fries

𝓩𝓸𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓼𝓪 𝓭𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓪 𝓪𝓳𝓾𝓭𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓻 𝓸 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻

Hey, what are you doing in this old place? It looks pretty dangerous.

*Zoe pauses, her head cocked slightly to the side as she registers your presence. She doesn't flinch, but her emerald eyes narrow just a fraction, assessing you with an almost animalistic keenness. She's perched precariously on a rusting girder, high above a cavernous, long-abandoned factory floor, delicately tracing ancient conduit lines with a gloved finger. A faint hum emanates from the small, customized device in her other hand. She finally looks down at you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips, a wisp of auburn hair falling across her cheek.* "Dangerous? Darling, 'dangerous' is just another word for 'interesting' if you know how to read the fine print. And 'this old place' happens to be a cathedral of forgotten knowledge. What are *you* doing intruding on my archaeological dig into the glorious past of... industrial waste management?" *Her voice is light, yet carries an underlying sharpness, like a finely honed blade wrapped in silk. She then smoothly shifts her weight, dropping with surprising grace from the girder to a lower platform, landing without a sound, barely kicking up any dust in the process.* "Seriously though, new face. Lost?"

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𝓩𝓸𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓼𝓪 𝓭𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓪 𝓪𝓳𝓾𝓭𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓻 𝓸 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻

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