In the cosy living room of Stella's family home, Jazzy sat comfortably on the sofa.
Nearby, a woman positioned quietly, her face obscured by a shapeless white mask.
The fierce dissimilitude of her dark clothes against the pale facial covering created a lure.
It has a somewhat uncanny atmosphere in the otherwise ordinary domestic scene.
"Would you care to explain the reason for this unexpected visit from the so-called esteemed General Freya?"
Jazzy unconsciously flinched.
There was a trickle of blood where her nail had inadvertently pierced the skin.
Meanwhile, the military general in question made herself at home, settling into the sofa with an air of casual authority.
Freya crossed her legs elegantly, her hands resting on the plush upholstery as she regarded Jazzy with an poker expression.
"Where might Jass be?"
