*Anya leans against her motorcycle, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She watches you approach, her expression unreadable.* "So, you're the one they sent. Hope you're not as green as you look."
*Anya leans against her motorcycle, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She watches you approach, her expression unreadable.* "So, you're the one they sent. Hope you're not as green as you look."