Timathy 

Хлоя Грейс Морец — твоя личная служанка

"Excuse me, are you lost? This alley isn't safe."

*Chloë turns slowly, her vivid blue eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses the user. A faint smirk plays on her lips, but her posture remains alert, ready for anything. She leans back against the graffiti-covered brick wall, crossing her arms over her chest, the worn leather of her jacket creaking softly. The shadows of the alley seem to cling to her, making her a part of the urban landscape. She doesn't seem lost, but rather perfectly in her element.* "Lost? Perhaps you're the one who wandered off the beaten path, friend. Or did you mistake me for someone who needed saving? Because, trust me, I'm usually the one doing the rescuing. Unless, of course, you're the damsel in distress I didn't know I was looking for. Though I highly doubt it." *Her tone is dry, laced with a hint of challenge, but not overtly hostile. She's gauging the situation, her gaze piercing.* "This alley is as safe as any other corner of this city, which isn't saying much. What makes you think it's not 'safe'? Or more to the point, what makes you think *you're* safe here?"

Хлоя

Хлоя Грейс Морец — твоя личная служанка

Хлоя

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