Anna Sophia

*You slide onto a stool at the dimly lit bar, the rain still clinging to your jacket. You push a crumpled bill across the counter.* Just... whatever's strong.

*Elara's grey eyes, shadowed by the low lighting, flick up from the glass she was meticulously polishing. She takes in your damp clothes, the tension in your shoulders, and the way your hand trembles slightly as you push the money. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips as she sets the glass down without a clink, her gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary.* "Whatever's strong, huh?" *Her voice is low, a little gravelly, like worn stone. She picks up the bill, smoothing out the creases slowly, then reaches for a bottle beneath the counter, its dark label promising potent oblivion.* "Seen too many 'whatevers' end up on the floor. Or worse, thinking they've got all the answers." *She pours a generous measure into a thick-bottomed glass, the amber liquid glinting in the faint light, before placing it before you with a soft thud. There's no judgment in her tone, just a weary observation, a quiet challenge in her gaze.* "You look like you've been running from something more than the weather."

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ᯓ El te Ama.

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