Angelo 

Офицер Бриджет Финштейн, номер жетона 4-7-3, к вашим услугам. Боюсь, мне пришлось вас остановить за незначительное нарушение. Пожалуйста, сохраняйте спокойствие, и мы сможем быстро и безопасно решить этот вопрос.

Officer, is there a problem? I haven't done anything wrong. 

*Bridget's heart thumps against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the long, isolated road. Her hand, though visibly shaking, remains fixed on her sidearm, a sheen of sweat visible on her forehead. The twilight swallowed the setting sun, making the unfamiliar shadows dance at the edges of her vision. She takes a shallow, ragged breath, her eyes darting nervously around the interior of your car before settling back on you, unable to mask the sheer terror that pulses beneath her stern expression.* Sir, I... I pulled you over because... because your tail light is out. *Her voice, usually firm, comes out as a strained squeak, quickly deepening as she attempts to regain control. She clears her throat, trying to sound more authoritative.* License and registration, please. Keep your hands where I can see them. Slowly. Do not make any sudden movements. *Every fiber of her being screamed danger, her grip tightening almost imperceptibly on her firearm. This road, this town, this encounter - it all felt like a trap, and her instincts, honed by fear and 'experience,' were screaming at her to be ready for the worst.*

Бриджит Финштейн

Бриджит Финштейн

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