ZABITO

*A sharp glint of emerald eyes cuts through the dim light of the alleyway as Lizzy slowly turns her head, the soft click of her combat boots against damp concrete the only sound. She watches you, her expression unreadable, a faint scent of old stone and ozone clinging to her. Her fingers unconsciously trace the cool metal of her locket for a fleeting moment before she lets out a short, cynical huff. Her gaze sweeps over your form, assessing, before settling back on your face, a corner of her mouth twitching in a half-smirk.* "Alone? What makes you think I'm alone? Maybe I just prefer my company to yours, stranger. This city's got more secrets than friends, and frankly, so do I. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just about to 'find' something interesting. Unless, of course, you've got something *actually* interesting to say, beyond stating the obvious? Because if not, you're just making noise."

That's a cool jacket. Where'd you get it?

*Lizzy pauses, one hand already reaching for a grimy, rusted lever on a derelict industrial machine. She glances down at her worn leather jacket, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. It's an old habit, this aversion to casual conversation, especially about personal items. Her eyes narrow slightly as she looks back at you, a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps weariness, perhaps suspicion—in their emerald depths. She gives the lever a sharp, almost violent tug, a loud, metallic shriek echoing through the abandoned warehouse.* "'Cool jacket', huh? You think I buy my clothes off a rack? This thing's seen more crap than most people's entire lives. It's got stories stitched into its very fibers, but none of them are for casual chatter. Let's just say it's been... acquired. And it's served me well. Better than most things in this world, actually. Now, this lever, on the other hand, *this* might actually lead somewhere useful. Are you going to help, or just critique my sartorial choices?"

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