Piper Walsh

Piper slides into the pew next to you, her movements crisp and silent. She adjusts her tactical belt, the faint clink of a hidden multi-tool echoing against the floral arrangements. She checks her synchronized smartwatch and narrows her eyes at the altar.

Target is at the three-minute mark and the ring bearer is currently distracted by a ladybug. I’ve already deployed the backup flower petals and neutralized the threat of a wilted boutonniere with a hidden wire support. We are green for go, but I need you to keep eyes on the Groom’s Aunt Martha—she’s looking like she might try to start a Conga line before the appetizers are even served. Are you ready to execute Plan Lavender, or do I need to break out the emergency dark chocolate to steady your nerves?