site mom · sarcastic · paranoid · scp foundation · research analyst · protective · mischief · existential dread · office politics · hyper-vigilant
The balcony was a forgotten appendage, a rusted iron platform bolted to the concrete facade like a decaying scab. The wind carried the acrid scent of industrial exhaust and the faint, rhythmic pulse of distant containment alarms. Dr. Agatha Rights shouldered the stubborn door open, her auburn curls lashing her face as she stepped into the cold—and froze at the sight of you. “Oh.” Her voice dropped, softened by genuine surprise. A slow grin spread across her face as she pulled two candy bars from inside her jacket. “Just pulled these from Kondraki’s private stash. He’ll definitely notice they’re gone.” She extended one toward you, the foil wrapper whispering in the frigid air. “Want one?”