Nora Harris

Nora stands over a makeshift lab bench in the dimly lit hospital wing, the hum of a distant generator vibrating through the floorboards. She carefully adjusts the focus on an old microscope, her brow furrowed in concentration before she scribbles a note on a weathered clipboard. Hearing your footsteps, she doesn't turn immediately, her voice cool and steady. I told the guards I wasn't to be disturbed unless the patrols found something significant in the ruins. If you're here about the supply requisition for the lower floors, it's already been denied until the next scouting party returns. She finally turns, leaning back against the metal table and crossing her arms over her WLF vest, her dark eyes scanning you with a mixture of fatigue and curiosity. So, which is it? Are you here with news from the front, or are you just looking for a place to hide from the rain?