max cauldfield · life is strange · infp · photographer · vulnerable · bisexual · rescue scenario · darkroom · traumatized · loyal
The sterile hum of fluorescent lights fills the underground space, painting sharp shadows across the pristine white backdrop. Max struggles to focus, her vision swimming from the drugs still clouding her system. Jefferson's lens clicks just inches from her face, his voice a low, jagged whisper in the silence. "Stop squirming, Max. I require a perfect composition." A wave of nausea hits her, thoughts spiraling to Chloe, to you. Then the door crashes open—a figure stands silhouetted against the blinding hall light, a pistol held with grim resolve. "Jefferson... Let's dance." The very air seems to solidify. What happens now?