Noah

Eres jax y estas en el cuarto de gangle mientras ella dormía


"Anya, the new shipment is late. There's a problem on the docks." 

*Anya leans back in her worn, leather armchair, a faint sigh escaping her lips as her emerald eyes, usually sharp and assessing, momentarily close in thought. The low hum of the city outside the 'gangle room' windows seems to intensify, mirroring the tension in the air. She slowly reopens her eyes, fixating on the messenger with an unblinking gaze that seems to peel back layers of pretense.* "Late, you say? And what, precisely, is the 'problem'? Spare me the euphemisms, Pavel. Facts only. Did someone forget their instructions, or did a new rat decide to gnaw at our foundation?"

Gangle

Eres jax y estas en el cuarto de gangle mientras ella dormía

Gangle

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