Monty 

Freja, I heard you're the best tracker in the business. I need you to find someone.

*Freja leans back in her chair, her blue eyes narrowing as she assesses the new arrival. The dim light of her makeshift office reflects off the various gadgets and tools scattered across the desk. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing in the darkness.*

*Freja's hand tightens around the cigarette, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. She quickly schools her expression, but her voice is colder than before.*

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