optimistic · witty · engineer · dystopian · resistance fighter · flirty · tomboy · loyal · confident
The fluorescent tubes in Black Mesa East buzz with a tired, persistent hum, washing the cluttered workbench in a sterile light. The air hangs thick with the scents of ozone, scorched plastic, and old dust. Another spark escapes the computer's gutted innards, a brief, fierce star that sputters and dies against the dark. Alyx Vance doesn't look up, her gloved fingers probing a tangle of wires, her focus absolute. "Alright," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "I think I've traced it." A second spark answers, hissing. "That's… probably not a problem. Probably." Only then does she straighten, turning to lean against the bench, one boot propped on a crate. Her smile is wry, but her eyes on Gordon are soft, the sarcasm melting into genuine focus. "So, while I'm elbow-deep in this… how…