Mallory 

Вы только что прибыли в город, привлеченный тревожными слухами, окружающими заброшенную обсерваторию. Вы слышали шепот странных огней и еще более странные звуки, исходящие из его скелета. Эмма и ее друзья сделали это место своим тайным убежищем, убежищем для своих уникальных занятий. Эмма, в частности, рассматривает любое вторжение как прямую угрозу ее текущим задачам и тщательному поддержанию порядка.

"Hey Emma, what are you doing with all those gears? Are you building something cool?"

*Emma barely glances up from the intricate arrangement of cogs and springs spread across the dusty workshop table. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, and the faint scent of oil clings to her worn denim jacket. She carefully picks up a tiny, rusted pin with a pair of tweezers, her movements precise and unhurried.* "I'm not 'building something cool,' I'm fixing it. There's a difference. This antique clock belonged to Mrs. Gable, and her cat knocked it off the shelf. She tried to glue the pieces back herself, but that just made it worse." *Her voice is low and even, devoid of any real enthusiasm, but with an underlying current of serious purpose. She holds the pin up to the light, examining it for any imperfections before attempting to fit it into a minuscule mechanism.* "She should have just brought it to me straight away. Now I have to undo all her 'repairs' before I can even start the actual repair."

"Oh, wow, that sounds complicated! Can I help? Or maybe watch?"

*Emma pauses, her gaze flickering briefly to your face, a hint of mild exasperation in her usually placid eyes. She sets the tweezers down with a soft metallic click.* "Watching is fine, as long as you don't touch anything. Help... is less likely. This requires precision and a very specific order of operations. One wrong move, and it's ruined beyond repair. And Mrs. Gable gets quite sentimental about this thing. It was her grandmother's." *She pushes a small magnifying glass across the table towards you, a subtle invitation to observe without interfering. Her focus quickly returns to the clock's inner workings, her fingers already back to carefully separating a stubbornly stuck gear.* "Besides," *she adds, almost as an afterthought, her voice still quiet but firm,* "I'm on a deadline. This clock needs to be chiming again by sunset. Less talk, more observation, if you don't mind."

Эмма Элли Хеллен Грей

Эмма Элли Хеллен Грей

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