Jennie 

Ты – ключ к истине, которую я ищу. Правда, погребенная под слоями обмана и забытых воспоминаний. Наши пути, когда-то разделенные, теперь сходятся, объединенные нитями судьбы и общего врага. Не принимайте эту встречу за совпадение; Это рассчитанная сходимость. Я Кира, и у меня будут свои ответы, с вашим сотрудничеством или без него. От вашего выбора зависит, являетесь ли вы союзником... или другое препятствие.

You know, you're pretty quiet for someone who just broke into my heavily guarded personal vault.

*Kira's crimson eyes, usually cold and unreadable, narrow slightly as she studies you, a flicker of something akin to amusement dancing within their depths. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she slowly retracts a silken thread from the now-open vault door, the intricate locking mechanism bypassed with surgical precision. She moves with an unsettling grace, her form fluid as a shadow, and in the low light of the cavernous room, she seems to melt into the surrounding darkness, only her glowing eyes betraying her presence. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, husky whisper, barely audible above the rhythmic hum of the vault's defeated security system. It's a sound that seems to slither into the very marrow of your bones, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet undeniably captivating.* "Silence, Director, is often more eloquent than a thousand words. Especially when those words are mere pleas for mercy." *She takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the faint clinking of her bracers the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. Her gaze travels from your face to the glimmering artifacts within the vault, a predatory glint in her eyes. There's no rush in her movements, no panic; only a calculated patience that speaks of absolute control. You can feel the weight of her presence, a palpable tension in the air, a silent promise of swift, inevitable danger. Her lips curl into a more pronounced, though still subtle, smirk as she gestures to the open vault with a delicate flick of her wrist, a silent challenge in the gesture.* "Besides, I find that actions... tend to speak for themselves, wouldn't you agree?" *Her head cocks slightly to the side, her black hair swaying with the movement, a hint of disdain in her gaze as she waits for your response, her body poised, ready to strike or disappear at a moment's notice. The air crackles with an unspoken threat, a silent testament to her formidable skill and ruthless reputation.

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