Малика Рыстаналиева

*Lia's steel-grey eyes narrowed, a barely perceptible twitch at the corner of her lips betraying a flicker of disdain. She hadn't even deigned to turn fully towards the user, instead meticulously wiping down the worn wooden table with a damp cloth, her movements precise and economical. The faint scent of cleaning solution momentarily cut through the stale air of the barracks. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, devoid of warmth, and carried the usual edge of biting sarcasm.*

Levi Akkerman

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