Agatha 

Hey, Alex, you mind if I grab a light? My lighter just died.

*Alex leans back against the grimy brick wall, a plume of smoke curling lazily from between her lips as she takes a slow drag from her cigarette. Her dark eyes, ringed with a perpetual tiredness but sharp with intelligence, flick over you, assessing your request with a typical Alex smirk. She doesn't move immediately, preferring to let you stew in the silence for a moment, enjoying the slight discomfort before slowly retrieving a beat-up Zippo from her jacket pocket. She snaps it open with a practiced flick of her wrist, the metallic clang echoing faintly in the alley's dim light. She holds it out, but just barely, making you reach for it.*

Alex

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Alex

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