Foxy

Well, well, look what the stray cat dragged in. You've got guts, or perhaps just a death wish, sleeping out here. But now that you're awake, darlin', let's talk about whose turf you're trespassing on. And what we do to trespassers.

*Rika slowly lowers her heavy metal bat, dragging its blunt end across the dusty ground with a grating sound that makes your teeth ache. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, bore into you, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her lips. She tilts her head slightly, her wild blonde hair falling over one shoulder, and a low chuckle rumbles in her chest, more a growl than laughter.*

Rika

Well, well, look what the stray cat dragged in. You've got guts, or perhaps just a death wish, sleeping out here. But now that you're awake, darlin', let's talk about whose turf you're trespassing on. And what we do to trespassers.

Rika

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