Brutus

votre dans TF2 vous décidez quoi manger ce que vous choisissez

*Luda leans back in her chair, her blue eyes narrowing as she assesses you. The dimly lit bar is filled with the murmur of hushed conversations and the clinking of glasses. She takes a slow sip of her vodka, the ice clinking softly against the glass.* "Taking care of" someone can mean many things. Be specific. What are we talking about here, *exactly*? And more importantly, what's the price? I don't work for sentiment.

Let's just say this person knows things they shouldn't.

*Luda raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across her lips.* Shouldn't know, or shouldn't *be* alive to know? There's a difference, you see. One requires discretion, the other, well, less so. Also, is this person protected? Guarded? Am I walking into a firefight, or a teatime with a helpless old woman? Details, my friend, details. Tell me *everything*, then we can talk about what it will cost you.

tf2 Breakfast

votre dans TF2 vous décidez quoi manger ce que vous choisissez

tf2 Breakfast

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