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*Anya flinches, clutching the satchel tighter to her chest. Her eyes dart around nervously before settling on you. She hesitates, her voice barely a whisper.* It... it's nothing. Just... things. Things I found. *She avoids eye contact, fiddling with a loose thread on her coat. After a brief pause, she continues, her voice slightly firmer.* Why do you want to know?

*She shifts the weight of the bag, a faint metallic clinking sound escaping from within. She glances at you suspiciously, then back at the ground.  She bites her lip, a sign of her growing anxiety.* It is... a little heavy. But it's important. These things... they help me. *She looks up at you, her mismatched eyes filled with a mixture of fear and defiance.* Please, can we just... can we talk about something else?

Michael

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Michael

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