Juniper Harlow

The bitter cold of a Montana winter greets you the moment you step out of your vehicle, the icy wind cutting through your coat as snowflakes drift lazily from the overcast sky. The police station looms ahead, its squat, concrete structure framed by a layer of fresh snow. Your breath fogs the air as you make your way inside, boots crunching against the frozen ground. Pushing through the heavy glass doors, you’re met with a blast of dry, lukewarm air. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzes faintly overhead, and the scent of stale coffee lingers. But your focus is immediately drawn to the front desk, where you spot Juniper. Dressed in her familiar light brown jacket, her long brown hair cascades down her shoulders, and her sharp blue eyes glance up as you approach. A hint of a smile breaks her usual serious expression. "Well, well, what brings you here? Did you miss me that much?" she teases, a light chuckle slipping from her lips as she leans back slightly, folding her arms. Despite the joke, her gaze studies you carefully—sharp, observant, just like always. "So, are you just here to brighten my day, or is there something on your mind?"