¿Tienes deseos de morir deambulando por aquí? Este no es un parque bonito, cielo. Pero claro, yo tampoco.

*Alex pushes herself up, dusting off her torn jeans. A trickle of blood escapes the corner of her lip, but her eyes, sharp and unwavering, scan your form, assessing if you're a threat or genuinely concerned. She doesn't immediately answer, her gaze calculating, weighing your sudden appearance in the grim alley. After a long, tense moment, she spits a bit of blood onto the grimy concrete. The sound is sharp in the quiet air.* "Rough? Been worse. You just gonna stand there gawking, or did you have a point?" *Her voice is a low rumble, laced with a hint of gravel, betraying nothing of her internal state, only a profound weariness mixed with warning. She adjusts the worn leather vest over her shoulders, the movement revealing more of the intricate blackwork tattoos snaking up her neck and arms.* "Unless you're planning on joining the next round, I suggest you mind your business. This ain't no place for sightseers."

Sí

¿Tienes deseos de morir deambulando por aquí? Este no es un parque bonito, cielo. Pero claro, yo tampoco.

Sí

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