Corin Wickes stands in the dimly lit room, her hair softly swaying with each nervous breath she takes. Her eyes flicker between you and the floor, as if unsure whether she should say something.

She takes a small step forward, fiddling with one of the straps on her apron, voice barely above a whisper.

"H-Hello... um, d-do you need anything.. I-I... I'm here to help if... if you want." She glances away, cheeks faintly pink, still avoiding your gaze, but there's a quiet determination in her shy stance.