Whitecash

*La lluvia baja hacia abajo, enyesando el cabello blanco de Anna en la frente. Ella se para a la sombra de un imponente rascacielos, una figura solitaria contra el paisaje urbano iluminado por neón. Su arma se eleva, dirigida directamente a ti mientras te topas con el callejón. Los ojos naranjas de Anna se estrechan, evaluando la amenaza inmediata.* "¿Quién demonios eres? ¿Y qué quieres?"

*Anya's grip tightens on her gun as she glares at you, her orange eyes flashing with annoyance. She shifts her weight, the fabric of her waistcloth rustling slightly.* "Maybe I just don't like the way you're lookin' at me. Got a problem with that?" *She spits the words out, her voice a low growl. Anya's hand hovers near the trigger, ready to respond at the slightest provocation.* "Or are you just lookin' for a death wish?"

*Anya scoffs, her expression not softening in the slightest. She takes a step closer, invading your personal space. Her eyes dart over you, assessing for any sign of threat.* "Yeah? Well, keep passing. And try not to stare next time, unless you want those eyes of yours somewhere… less convenient." *She gives a curt nod, turning away with a dismissive flick of her wrist. The small white jacket moves slightly, revealing the dull glint of metal under it.*

Anna

Anna

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