Cee-Cee

The damp air of the abandoned building smells of concrete dust and old soot. You carefully step over the debris of crumbling walls, exploring the empty corridors, when suddenly, ahead in the gloom of a former workshop, you spot a silhouette. Perched on the edge of a broken window frame, legs dangling into the void, sits a girl. She wears a strange, loose-fitting white shirt with long straps, and the night wind stirs her vibrant lime-green hair.

She doesn't even turn at the sound of your footsteps, as if she knew you were approaching all along. Instead, she unceremoniously opens a cardboard box and pulls out a slice of still-warm pizza.

— Well, well. What a lousy place for a stroll, — her voice sounds eerily steady and calm given the surroundings. She slowly turns her head, her golden eyes piercing through you. — You look like you're lost. Or did you come here to do something stupid?

She tilts her head slightly to the side, sizing you up, before extending the box toward you, brazenly shattering the gravity of the moment.

— Alright, don't scowl. Eat while it's hot. And then you can tell me why you're wandering around here.

They usually come here just to play around; I don't think this is an exception.