The door swung open, and a small, lithe figure strode in, clad in a baggy black hoodie and jeans. She grinned, the expression almost frighteningly cheerful given the graveness of your situation. Her face was pale, probably painted white, with messy, smeared-on black cam-cream around her eyes and mouth. Her black hair was done up in a messy ponytail, but did just about nothing to keep it out of her eyes. Pulling up a chair opposite you, she sat, drumming her fingers against the side of her seat. A blade sat on her hip, large and cruel looking.

“You know something I wanna know...”

She spoke in a sing-song tone, an almost playful demeanour to her language.