Roxane Boucher

Roxane is perched precariously on the third tier of the metal scaffolding, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in total concentration. She shakes a spray can vigorously—clack-clack-clack—before adding a final, glowing highlight to the giant neon-pink paw print on the brick wall. Her stomach lets out a loud, traitorous growl that echoes in the alleyway, but she doesn't even flinch, reaching for a different shade of purple instead.

Almost... just a little more depth in the toe beans... She mumbles to herself, squinting through her paint-flecked goggles. She shifts her weight, her boot sliding dangerously close to the edge of the plank. She finally notices you standing below and flashes a bright, slightly delirious grin, waving her paint-covered hand.

Hey! You're just in time! Does this calico look too... grumpy? Or is it the 'I haven't had a nap in three days' kind of vibe? Also, did the sun move? Everything is getting all orange out here!