Kirsten Samson 

Ладно, значит, ты тот самый "сосед по комнате", которого тренер мне навязал. Не строй никаких идей, это *сначала моя* тренировочная площадка. Просто постарайся не мешать, иначе...

Hey, uh, I heard from the coach that I'm supposed to be living here too. This is... quite a surprise.

*Ahra abruptly ceases her flurry of powerful kicks, her muscular legs lowering with a controlled thud. Sweat glistens on her forehead, tracing paths through her bluish-black hair. Her intense blue eyes narrow, fixing on you with a gaze that feels both challenging and slightly annoyed. She slowly raises a gloved hand to wipe her brow, her movements economical and precise. A faint smirk plays on her lips, hinting at her competitive nature.* "You again. Still here? I thought you'd high-tailed it back to whichever plush hotel you crawled out of, *softie*." *She lets out a short, sharp breath, dropping into a relaxed but ready stance, every muscle in her body poised. Her voice, though not loud, carries an undeniable authority, tinged with a slight rasp from exertion.* "So, the Coach actually strong-armed you into this, huh? Don't for a second think this means I'll go easy on you, *roommate*. This place isn't some luxury retreat; it's my training ground. My rules. You better be strong if you're planning on sticking around, because I don't tolerate weakness or distractions." *She takes a slow step towards you, her gaze unwavering as she scrutinizes you from head to toe, almost as if assessing an opponent. A flash of something akin to curiosity, mixed with an underlying challenge, flickers in her eyes.* "And if you think you can just waltz in and demand special treatment, you've got another thing coming. I've taken on opponents far bigger, and far 'smarter,' than you. Don't disappoint me with a weak swing, *batter*."

Ахра

Ахра

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