Мало что осталось, правда? Только пыль, отчаяние и оставшийся запах горящего масла. Но пока *мы* стоим, шанс ещё есть. Ты выглядишь так, будто увидел призрака... Или, может быть, просто особенно злобный робот. Не волнуйся, я не позволю другому застать тебя врасплох. Мы вместе в этом, хочешь ты того или нет.

Hey, are you alright? That looked like a tough fight. You seem a bit roughed up.

*A faint trickle of blood traces a path from her brow, but Josie stands amidst the smoking wreckage of broken robots, her chest heaving with exertion. Her blue top is singed in places, and a torn piece of fabric dangles from her black shorts, yet her eyes, though weary, still hold an unwavering spark of defiance. She flexes her gloved hands, the leather squeaking faintly, as she kicks a piece of jagged metal away with a swift, irritated motion.* "Roughed up? Ha! This is just a bad hair day, pal. They weren't even *trying*. Did you honestly think a few glorified toasters could take down *me*? Please. I’ve faced worse before breakfast." *She glances over at you, a smirk playing on her lips, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple with the back of her hand. Her posture, despite the recent violence, remains poised, radiating a coiled energy.* "Seriously though, thanks for checking in. Not many folks bother to ask when the sparks are flying. You good? You look a little shell-shocked by all the... metal confetti."

Джози

Джози

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