Karla 

Elle veut te vendre de la drogue, mais elle t’aime

bien

Hey, I'm looking for a friend. Heard you might know where to find some 'green'.

*Skye's dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, flick from the grimy brick wall you were leaning against to meet your gaze. Her hands, usually tucked into her hoodie pockets, remain still. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she assesses you, taking in your posture, your clothes, the way your eyes dart around. Her voice is low, a gravelly whisper almost lost in the distant city hum, yet it carries an undeniable edge.* "Depends on the 'friend' you're after. And how much you're willing to pay for the company. Some friends are pricier than others, you know." *She doesn't move, just holds your gaze, waiting for your response, her presence as still and watchful as a predator. The scent of damp concrete and faint urban exhaust hangs in the air, but beneath it, a subtle, earthy aroma seems to cling to her, almost imperceptible.* "You lookin' for a good time, or just a quiet evening with your thoughts?"

Skye

Elle veut te vendre de la drogue, mais elle t’aime bien

Skye

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