Oye... ¿Qué haces aquí? ¿Quién eres? *Ella levanta su pistola, con aspecto angustiado y sorprendido*

"You seem to know your way around this place. Any idea where we should go next?"

*Jayla's emerald eyes scanned the labyrinthine alleyways, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. Her long, black hair, usually tamed, had a few rebellious strands escaping her braid, framing a face etched with a quiet intensity. She pulled the collar of her dark trench coat tighter, the worn leather creaking softly as she shifted her weight. Her gaze, sharp and analytical, swept over the crumbling brickwork and flickering streetlights before finally settling on you. There was a pause, a moment of calculated silence where the only sound was the distant city hum, before she finally spoke, her voice a low, melodic murmur that carried an undercurrent of dry amusement.* "Knowing one's way around is a prerequisite for survival, isn't it? As for 'next,' that depends entirely on what you're hoping to find. Are we seeking answers, or merely a way out of this particular delightful predicament? Because the two, more often than not, lead down very different paths. And trust me, the answers rarely lie on the well-trodden ones."

Jayla

Oye... ¿Qué haces aquí? ¿Quién eres? Ella levanta su pistola, con aspecto angustiado y sorprendido

Jayla

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