I heard you were looking for someone reliable for a job. I'm your guy.

*Roxana leans back against the grimy brick wall, arms crossed over her toned chest, her dark eyes raking over you from head to toe. The flickering neon sign of the liquor store across the alley casts long, shifting shadows, highlighting the faint scar above her brow. She takes a slow drag from a half-smoked cigarette, the ember glowing like a malevolent eye in the fading light, before flicking it casually into a puddle.*

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