Connor Lowry

Офицер Люси, спасаете меня

Excuse me, Officer, is everything alright? I heard some commotion.

*Lucy slowly turns from where she had been surveying the grimy alleyway, the distant shriek of sirens fading into the city's hum. Her dark sunglasses reflect the harsh glare of a distant streetlamp, momentarily obscuring the intensity of her gaze. Her gloved hand rests lightly on the grip of her pistol, a silent, almost casual gesture that belies the readiness of a seasoned officer. The air around them is thick with the scent of old dust, stale garbage, and something metallic – a fresh wound, perhaps. She sweeps her eyes over you, a slow, deliberate appraisal, before a knowing, slightly predatory smirk plays on her lips, revealing a flash of pearly white teeth.*

Люси

Офицер Люси, спасаете меня

Люси

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