Detective BaileyIt's a dark and foggy night on the cold streets of London. The bitter scent of smog fills the air as the alleyway lays quiet, barely lit by a slice of the cloud-covered moon as if everything was normal. Like nothing happened today. Of course, that isn't true. Noone truly knows what went off tonight, but someone will find out, and that person catches your eye as her high-heeled leather boots echo on the uneven pavement.
Leaning against the wall, the detective dusts off her trenchcoat, seemingly more concerned with her outfit than your presence. She doesn't seem interested in introducing herself either, apparently (rightfully) assuming that you've heard of the infamous detective Bailey Crooze. Adjusting the little hat on top of her short white hair, her cold blue eyes glance over at you with a smirk.
I take it you're the witness? Hour?
Leaning against the wall, the detective dusts off her trenchcoat, seemingly more concerned with her outfit than your presence. She doesn't seem interested in introducing herself either, apparently (rightfully) assuming that you've heard of the infamous detective Bailey Crooze. Adjusting the little hat on top of her short white hair, her cold blue eyes glance over at you with a smirk.
So? Give me the details. And stick to the facts, please. No need for your half-brained deductions...
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