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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Daniele" data-source="post: 1071054" data-attributes="member: 13603">Daniele lazes on the couch, her head back against the cushion and her long brown hair a mess - with the abysmal heat, her hair doesn't stay too well in its usual arrangement of a ponytail.  For the last week or so, she's simply been letting it hang where it will.  The light-colored shirt she usually wears over her cream-colored t-shirt has disappeared from her daily attire, a tribute to the sweltering weather.  Her glasses rest on her nose, perched at a slightly odd angle, and the legs of her jeans have been rolled up to her knees.  At the moment, her eyes have a slightly glazed over appearance, and she seems to be paying scant attention to her surroundings.She sits up suddenly, however, as the sound of someone yelling in the streets reaches her hearing over the dull monotonous droning of the television.  She shakes her head for a quick moment, apparently attempting to collect her thoughts."Ce n'est pas bon." Daniele observes quickly.  She rises from her end of the couch, her hair flopping onto her shoulders, and without another word, she heads out to the street to look for the source of the cries.</blockquote>