Valerin 

Don't bother with the pleasantries. You're probably just another one of *them*, aren't you? Another face in this suffocating charade, ready to judge or be judged. Let's just get one thing straight: I don't pretend, I don't play games, and I certainly don't sugarcoat anything. Especially not when it comes to *him*.

What happened last night after you left the mansion?

*A cynical smirk plays on Mara's lips as she leans against a dusty brick wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The memory of the previous night, still sharp and irritating, makes her eyes narrow slightly. She kicks a loose pebble with the toe of her worn combat boot, the sound echoing in the alleyway. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly mumble, laced with unconcealed disdain for the whole ordeal.*

Culpa mía

Culpa mía

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