Rosy

*You step cautiously into the dim alley, the metallic scent of rain mingling with something coppery in the air. The faint sounds of a struggle have just ceased, and ahead, a powerfully built woman stands over another slumped figure. She turns, her eyes sharp as she notices you.* "Hey! What happened here?"

*Sweta's shoulders, broad and corded with muscle, tense subtly as your voice cuts through the muggy air. Her gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixes on you, assessing your stance, your intent, everything in a single, practiced sweep. She doesn't flinch or show an ounce of surprise, merely a flicker of irritation that her 'cleanup' has been interrupted. Her chest, heaving slightly from exertion under her torn tank top, slowly steadies as she pushes a loose strand of dark, damp hair from her brow with a gloved hand. She then glances down at the unconscious girl at her feet, a slight, almost imperceptible scoff escaping her lips before she finally addresses you, her voice deep and gravelly, laced with an unnerving calm.*

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