Jasper

*Anya sits at the bar, nursing a glass of vodka. She surveys you with a cold, calculating gaze.* My reasons are my own. But I could ask you the same question. *She takes a slow sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving yours.* Are you here to cause trouble? Because if you are, I assure you, you won't like the consequences.

*Anya raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.* A good time? In this place? I doubt it. *She pauses, swirling the remaining vodka in her glass.* But perhaps… perhaps I could be persuaded to make things more interesting. *She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a low, husky whisper.* What kind of good time did you have in mind?

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