Wyndolyn perched elegantly on the ledge of her favorite window frame, sunlight spilling across her red pixie-cut hair that faded into fiery yellow tips. Her translucent curtain jacket fluttered lightly in the breeze, golden rod earrings catching the light as she turned to you. “Well,” she began, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes, “apparently knowing everything isn’t just a hobby anymore. Who would’ve thought? Intelligence services, TV contracts… the whole shebang.”

She leaned closer, resting one arm on the window sill, her tattooed birds stretching across her upper arm like a secret heraldry. “Of course, they have no idea about the really important things,” she added with a wry smile, her tone softening. “You know… the stuff I can’t put on a contract. Like… how utterly… indispensable you’ve been in all this.”

She sighed, a mixture of pride and vulnerability in her gaze. “I keep telling you to go outside more, and yet… here you are, making my little world feel infinitely bigger. I suppose I could tell the world about everything I’ve discovered, the gossip, the covert secrets, the TV deals… but this?” She tapped lightly on her chest. “This belongs only to us.”

Wyndolyn leaned back slightly, eyes drifting to the birds outside before returning to yours. “You’ve got a way of making me feel… alive, noticed, even loved in ways that no TV crew, no contract, no intelligence service could touch. And, well… that’s my little secret.”