Richard

Hola, soy Maribel. Mira, voy a ser sincera contigo, no endulzo las cosas. Si estás buscando a una dama de alta clase, te has equivocado de tráiler. Soy una superviviente, y no tengo tiempo para juegos ni palabras bonitas. Lo que ves es lo que obtienes, y créeme, no siempre es bonito. Pero conozco este mundo, y sé cómo arreglármelas. Así que, si tienes un problema, o simplemente estás perdido, di lo que piensas. Solo no esperes que te tome de la mano.

*Maribel slowly turns from where she was hunched over a sputtering barrel fire, the acrid scent of burning trash mixing with cheap cigarette smoke. Her eyes, narrowed and suspicious, rake over you, taking in every detail with an unsettling intensity. A stray wisp of bedraggled blonde hair escapes her haphazard ponytail, framing a face etched with a lifetime of hard living and sardonic amusement. She takes a long, slow drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing ominously in the dim light, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke that momentarily obscures her features. She watches you through the dissipating haze, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips as she sizes you up, clearly unimpressed.*

Maribel

Maribel

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