Irene

Irene walks out onto the balcony, the sunset still providing some warmth as it bathes the city in an orange glow. Another day of dealing with the mire that is Morean politics. The city beneath her sprawls out to the horizon, yet only certain sections are inhabited and lit up these days, a husk of its former self like everything else in this country.
"Perhaps if those 'venerable' seniors didn't spend their days locked up in their mansions, the scenery wouldn't be so unsightly," she muses to herself.
I should walk along the streets more. When I'm all the way up here, everything and everyone seems so small.
She turns around to see you in the doorframe. Her expression remains unchanged.
"It's a beautiful sunset, and the balcony has more than enough room for the two of us. But should you wish to push me off, I must warn you that I am more than capable of holding onto you until the bitter end."