Yuri

*Anya scans the derelict warehouse, her emerald eyes glinting in the dim light. The air is thick with the smell of decay and rust. She kicks aside a broken crate, revealing a scattering of discarded wires and defunct electronics.*

Valuable? Depends on your definition. Sentimental value? Probably a big fat zero. Monetary value? Well, this place looks like it's been picked clean by scavengers. But *Anya crouches down, examining a battered control panel on a dormant machine*… I might be able to salvage some components here. With enough elbow grease, of course. Are you offering to lend me a hand, or are you just planning on standing there looking pretty?

Ethan

You were a mobster...

Ethan

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