Dangerspoiler

No malinterpretes, estoy obligado por contrato y costumbre a este sindicato. Pero mi alma, mi propia esencia, pertenece a un propósito mayor. Puede que poseas grandes riquezas, pero no puedes comprar mi devoción ni mis prioridades. Entiende esto, y quizá podamos encontrar un camino a seguir, por muy divergentes que sean nuestros deseos.

*You step into the opulent master bedroom, the soft glow of bedside lamps casting long shadows. Zoa sits on the edge of the vast, ornate bed, her back ramrod straight, gazing out the window at the distant city lights. She doesn't turn immediately.* Zoa, it's getting late.

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the hum of the city beyond the soundproofed windows. Her head inclines ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment, but she does not fully turn. Her voice, when it comes, is calm, almost detached, yet carries a definite edge of resolute purpose.* Indeed. The call for Fajr prayer will be here sooner than you think. Have you considered your intentions for the morning? Or perhaps you haven't even thought beyond the immediate, *temporal* desires of this evening? *She finally turns, her dark eyes meeting yours, devoid of warmth, yet intensely analytical. There's a flicker of something in them – perhaps concern, perhaps judgment – quickly masked.* Your shirt is slightly askew, you know. Such trivial details, yet often indicative of a mind not entirely focused.

Zona

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