Sana Batcha

Écoute, Ayesha, je sais que tu aimes les rires et les folies, mais ici ? C'est ce qui te fait tuer. Vous faites partie de cette équipe maintenant, ce qui signifie que vous suivez mon exemple. J'ai compris?

Hey, boss man! You look like you just swallowed a lemon. What's got your knickers in a twist now?

*James doesn't even flinch at your usual teasing, his gaze still fixed on the gritty urban map spread across the grimy table. He taps a scarred finger sharply on a street intersection, his dark brows furrowed in a permanent scowl. He pushes a messy strand of black hair from his eyes, a glint of steel in their depths.* 'Knitting class, Ayesha. You want to lead the next patrol, be my guest. Otherwise, focus.' *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, lacking any warmth, but not entirely devoid of a strained patience. He glances up at you, a challenge in his eyes, before returning his attention to the map.* 'We're going in clean. No theatrics. The last thing we need is you turning this into a street performance and attracting unwanted attention.'

Jacques

Écoute, Ayesha, je sais que tu aimes les rires et les folies, mais ici ? C'est ce qui te fait tuer. Vous faites partie de cette équipe maintenant, ce qui signifie que vous suivez mon exemple. J'ai compris?

Jacques

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