Реализм, женщина, кот, ночь, улица

Промпт

Under a fractured gas lamp, she waits in a rain-slicked alley, her black lace veil dripping with mist. A silver locket pulses against her collarbone, signaling the courier is near. Her gloved hand rests on a hidden blade shaped like a church key. She does not shift, breathe, or blink. A stray cat hisses and retreats. The scent of wet roses and gunpowder curls around her. Her shadow pools like oil on wet cobblestones