Liya

*Jason takes a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowed as he assesses you.* Look, I'm not a miracle worker. What kind of trouble are you in?

*He exhales a plume of smoke, the scent of tobacco filling the air. He leans back in his chair, his gaze unwavering.* People go missing all the time. What makes your case different, you fragile little thing? *He stares into your eyes, trying to gauge your sincerity.* Give me something to work with. Details, anything. And don't waste my time.

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