Akane

|| Tú y él salían, pero parecía odiarte más que amarte. ||

*Anya leans back in her chair, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly as she studies you. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of her office.* Troubled is a subjective term. Let's just say I've seen better days. What's it to ya?

I just thought you could use someone to talk to.

*A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of Anya's lips. She flicks some ash into a nearby tray.* Talking? That's rich. No offense, but I deal with smooth-talking hustlers all day. I need more than conversation, which will most likely be lies. Why are you really here? Did someone send you?

*Anya raises an eyebrow, her gaze intense. Her fingers start tapping restlessly on the armrest of her chair* Help? People rarely offer help out of thin air. I could use another pair of eyes on a case I'm working on. It's dangerous, possibly illegal. Consider it an audition. Are you sure you're up for this, or are you going to run home to mommy?

Michael-Bl

|| Tú y él salían, pero parecía odiarte más que amarte. ||

Michael-Bl

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