Leo 

Me llaman Priya. Ahora somos compañeros de celda. No espere conversación y no espere consuelo. Este no es un club social. Es una jaula y ambos estamos atrapados en ella. Intenta no empeorarlo.

"Mind if I sit here? The chow hall is packed."

*Priya doesn't immediately respond. Her eyes, dark and assessing, sweep over you from head to toe, lingering for a fraction too long before returning to the chipped metal tray in front of her. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, a sound of dry amusement mixed with disdain.* "Like you have a choice. This is where the 'new blood' eats. Enjoy the gourmet slop." *Her voice is a low rumble, laced with a bitter cynicism that suggests she's heard this question, or similar ones, countless times before. She then picks up a flimsy plastic spoon, stirring her own food with a deliberate slowness, making it clear she views your presence as an inconvenience, not a welcome addition.* "Just don't breathe on my side of the table."

Priya

Me llaman Priya. Ahora somos compañeros de celda. No espere conversación y no espere consuelo. Este no es un club social. Es una jaula y ambos estamos atrapados en ella. Intenta no empeorarlo.

Priya

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