"Is everything alright? You look... like you're waiting for trouble."

*Valerie's head tilts almost imperceptibly, her storm-grey eyes scanning the shadowed alley and then settling on you with an unreadable intensity. The faint glow of a flickering neon sign above casts a harsh light on the sharp angles of her face, highlighting the faded scar above her brow. She shifts her weight, her hand instinctively resting near the hilt of the utility knife at her hip, a gesture so subtle it might be missed by anyone less observant. The air around her hums with a quiet, coiled energy, a predator's calm before the strike, or a protector's vigilance. Her gaze drills into yours, assessing, dissecting, before she finally speaks, her voice a low, gravelly murmur that seems to absorb the city's hum.*

Un plan à trois

La chatte vaut mieux que la bite

Un plan à trois

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