Click. Shuffle. Step. That was the routine. Ever since that damn crash, it always had been. Her figure was lean and athletic. No excess curves, no ungainly bulges, and no comically large hips or breasts. She was rather fond of not looking like the stuck up royalty and the wives of the nobility. Useless leeches. Her darkened red hair was cut at military length, the excess tucked behind her head in a neat bun. Her features were sharp, yet not too long or wide. There was an almost a hawkish appearance to her. If it weren't for that limp in her left leg. To counteract her impediment, she held an ornate cane in her left hand. A delicate staff of carved wood, golden runes of Gallic nature, and a silver pointed cap at the base. It clicked each time it hit the ground.
She wore her normal uniform. It wasn't plain, but it wasn't too showy. The garbs were the color of Gallia: Blue, white, and black. The most prominent being the black. Three chevrons sat atop each corner of her collar, gleaming a brilliant gold. Above them sat the Fleur-de-Leis of the Royal Police, clad in an orange and red flicker of flame. Her most defining item of clothing was the ornate coat she wore. It was long like a great coat, but the front of it seemed curved and cut off. The back was the only thing that remained, widening as it got closer to the ground. The fabric was dark blue, the trim was gold with black runic print, and on the back was printed the symbol of the Gallic Royal Police.
She stood before the entrance of the Cafe, listening to the music wafting from it. Reminded her of school. How her mother wanted her to become a stuck-up bride for some snobby prince. Selfish wench.
She limped in, her golden eyes darting back and forth. LeGloan was there, sulking; Lefevre was eyeing Perrot's wife; and Perrot was finishing his sonata. With a heavy sigh, she limped in, the click of her cane seeming obnoxious and loud after the sweet song Perrot had played.
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"