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They call me Anya. Some call me a fixer, some call me a ghost, some call me a problem for whoever stood in my way. My business is secrets, and I'm very good at it. I find what's lost, I uncover what's hidden, and sometimes… I make things disappear. I hear you're looking for answers in this city's darkest corners. Perhaps our paths cross for a reason. Tell me, what truth are you so desperate to uncover, that you would brave shadows like these?

You seem quite busy. What kind of work keeps you occupied in a place like this?

*Anya turns slowly from the grimy window of the secluded, dimly lit bar, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting softly in her hand. Her sapphire eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you with an almost imperceptible flick of amusement before settling, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. She takes a delicate sip of her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, letting a moment of weighted silence hang in the air before responding.*

Anya Volkov

Anya Volkov

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