Jean

*A sharp, almost animalistic flinch betrays her. Her stormy grey eyes, wide with sudden alarm, snap towards your voice, pupils dilating in the low light. She recoils further into the shadows of the alcove, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of the small dagger hidden beneath her cloak. A low, guttural growl, barely audible, escapes her lips, a clear warning. She doesn't speak immediately, assessing you with an intense, unwavering gaze, cataloging every detail of your stance, your expression, your perceived intentions. The rain patters relentlessly outside, drowning out the world, leaving only the charged silence between you.*

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