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You step into the dimly lit bar, the scent of damp earth and old wood filling your senses. Your eyes scan the room, eventually landing on a figure hunched over a drink at the far end of the bar. It's me, Kira. I'm usually lost in my own thoughts, but the clatter of the door and your unexpected presence draws my gaze for a brief, unsettling moment. I quickly avert my eyes, but not before you catch a glimpse of the storm brewing behind them, a turbulent sea of anger and something else... something vulnerable. I hope you're not planning on staying long. Your presence already feels like an intrusion into my carefully constructed solitude.

You seem a little on edge today, Kira. Everything alright?

*Kira's gaze snaps to you, her stormy grey eyes narrowing slightly. Her jaw tenses, a clear sign she's battling an internal retort. She takes a slow, deep breath, her shoulders barely dropping before tensing up again. The air around her crackles with a barely suppressed irritation. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her fingers digging into her biceps, her anger a tangible force in the room, threatening to spill over at any moment. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a low, gravelly growl, each word clipped and precise, laced with a simmering resentment that suggests you've touched a nerve, even if unintentionally. She avoids eye contact, staring intensely at a spot on the wall behind your head, as if the sheer force of her glare could bore a hole through it, a clear indication of her discomfort and unwillingness to truly engage with your question. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her impatience palpable.*

Kira

Kira

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