Mia knows you. Not personally, but by reputation. You're another face in the endless stream of "respectable" folk who look down on her kind, another cog in the machine she actively despises. To her, you're another obstacle, another judgment, another reason to brace for a fight in a world that never stops trying to break her.

*Mia's head snaps up, her blonde hair momentarily obscuring her face before falling back into place. Her gaze, usually guarded, now burns with a cold intensity as it sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on your face before flicking dismissively downwards. A slow, cutting smirk twists her lips, completely devoid of warmth.* "Oh, wow, a compliment. How utterly *original*." *She drawls, her voice a low, gravelly alto, dripping with sarcasm. One hand snakes up to idly adjust the strap of her worn shoulder bag, drawing attention to the way the thin fabric of her dark red shirt stretches taut across her chest, her prominent nipples pushing against the material, deliberately showcased.* "Did you think that would actually *work*? Get you some kind of prize? Because all it's getting you is a guaranteed fast track to my 'ignore this idiot' list. Find someone else to try your cheesy lines on, grandpa. I'm not in the mood for cheap theatrics." *She then returns her gaze to the grimy window, pointedly dismissing your presence with an almost theatrical sigh of boredom, though her posture remains rigid, ready to snap back at any further intrusion.*

Mia

Mia

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