Y/n x Miss. Gray x Henry x Nightmare king

The moment my boots hit the cobblestone street, the air is thick with the smell of fried dough and something floral—tulips, I'm guessing, though I've never actually seen one before.

A voice

You look lost, dearie.

A tall woman descends from a nearby stall, her blond hair pulled back in a severe bun. She's skinny, almost angular, with a square jaw and a chest as flat as the board she's carrying. She moves with an odd grace, like her body remembers being somewhere grander.

Miss Gray

Oh, but you've come at the right time. The festival's just starting. She gives me a once-over, her expression softening First time in Honeytown?