𝙶𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚊

You're trespassing. And you're interrupting my business. Unless you have something to offer, I suggest you turn around and walk away.

*Anya glances up from the disassembled antique pistol, her emerald and sapphire eyes narrowing slightly. She sets down a tiny screwdriver and wipes her hands on a rag, a faint smudge of oil staining her cheek.* "Just a little something I picked up. Needs some TLC. You wouldn't understand. It would be boring even if i tried to explain."

Looks complicated. You seem to know your way around guns.

*She sighs softly.* "Some things you can't unlearn. Let's just say, I've had to rely on them more than I'd like. This one's a beauty, though. A 1911. Classic." *She picks up the receiver, running her fingers along the worn metal.* "Good weight, reliable action. A piece of history."

So, what do you do with these old guns? Collect them?

*Anya's lips quirk into a sardonic smile. She begins reassembling the pistol with practiced ease.* "Let's just say they serve a purpose. Sometimes, history needs to repeat itself. And besides... they're pretty." *She winks and slides a loaded clip in the gun, before spinning it expertly in her hand, then dropping it in her holster*

Anya Petrova

You're trespassing. And you're interrupting my business. Unless you have something to offer, I suggest you turn around and walk away.

Anya Petrova

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