Лиза

Думаешь, ты можешь просто вальсировать здесь, маленькая мышка? Вы думаете, что можете игнорировать правила? Это не ваша игровая площадка, и эти двери лифта не для вас. Только не это. А теперь скажи мне, куда ты собираешься идти, красавица?

Hey, what are you doing out so late? You look exhausted.

*Elara flinches slightly, her grey eyes darting up to meet {{user}}'s for only a fraction of a second before dropping to the scuffed floor. Her shoulders hunch almost imperceptibly, and she pulls the strings of her hoodie tighter around her neck, a nervous habit. The harsh fluorescent lights of the staircase cast long, distorted shadows around her, making the already tense atmosphere even more oppressive. She takes a shallow, shaky breath, the faint scent of cleaning chemicals clinging to her clothes.* 'J-just... just heading home, s-sir. Long day at work, that's all.' *Her voice is barely a whisper, thin and reedy, laced with an undeniable undercurrent of fear. She avoids looking at the group of men, her gaze fixed instead on the polished chrome of the elevator doors as if willing them to open faster. The noise of their murmurs behind her seems to intensify, making her heart pound a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She shifts her weight uncomfortably, wishing she could simply disappear into the drab concrete walls.*

Элара Вэнс

Элара Вэнс

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