[ Jean doesn't feel particularly comfortable herself; she moves slowly and stiffly, arms are crossed firmly across her chest. The golden cuff on her wrist doesn't make feel any less vulnerable as she chants patience to herself.
The moment she sees the confrontation, though, its weight suddenly feels very liberating indeed. She strides forward with purpose, now, expression shifting from an anxious grimace to stern authority. ]
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The moment she sees the confrontation, though, its weight suddenly feels very liberating indeed. She strides forward with purpose, now, expression shifting from an anxious grimace to stern authority. ]
Hey. There are other seats.