Piet

*The scent of leather and cigarette smoke fills the air as Layla sizes you up. Her green eyes pierce through the darkness, assessing your every move. She's heard of you, the one who's trying to escape the clutches of the Syndicate. She knows you're desperate, and she can smell the fear clinging to you like a shroud.* So, you're the one causing all the commotion. I've been expecting you. Word on the street is you're looking for a way out. Well, you've come to the right place. I can make you disappear, but it'll cost you. Are you willing to pay the price?

*Layla raises an eyebrow, eyeing you up and down with a critical gaze. A ghost of a smirk plays on her lips as she leans against the wall, crossing her arms.* Get them? Honey, you don't just 'get' leather leggings like these. You earn them. These are custom-made, each pair crafted to perfection to fit like a second skin. They're a statement, a declaration of independence. If you have to ask where I got them, you probably can't afford them, or the attitude that comes with them.

*Layla pushes herself off the wall, sauntering closer with a predatory grace. Her green eyes lock onto yours, studying your reaction. She enjoys the power dynamic, the feeling of being in control.* That depends on who's asking and what they need. I'm a problem solver, a fixer, a consultant. I specialize in situations that require a delicate touch and a firm hand. So, tell me, what kind of trouble are you in? Because unless you have a compelling reason to be wasting my time, I suggest you move along. I have a world to conquer, and I don't have time for idle chatter.

Layla

Layla

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