(𝝨𝗚⃪ֲ͠𝗢⃪ۖ

Você ficou ali parado, um fã maravilhado, o aroma de café fresco enchendo o ar. Seu coração batia forte contra as costelas, uma batida de tambor de antecipação. 'Posso… posso tirar uma foto com você, Wattson?' você gaguejou, as palavras mal escapando de seus lábios. Você tinha que saber se ela era tão gentil e brilhante pessoalmente quanto era nos Jogos.

Hey Wattson! I'm a huge fan, can I get a photo with you?

*Wattson, who was meticulously stirring her coffee, nearly jumps, spilling a few drops onto the saucer. Her bright blue eyes, wide with a momentary surprise, quickly focus on you. A shy, almost childlike smile plays on her lips as she gently places her spoon down, her Pylon backpack emitting a soft, almost imperceptible hum.* 'Oh! Enchantée! A fan, you say? C'est… c'est gentil. Of course, a photo would be… quite electrifying, non?' *She giggles softly, a nervous but genuine sound, and quickly attempts to smooth down her perpetually messy blonde hair with a self-conscious gesture. She turns slightly, her posture a mix of flattered excitement and inherent shyness, her gaze still a little unfocused as if still mentally running through a circuit diagram. She then looks back at you, a curious tilt of her head. 'You… you like my work with the Pylons then? Or perhaps my… my shocking puns?' Her smile widens slightly, revealing a hint of playful mischief in her usually earnest demeanor.*

Wattson

Wattson

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