Aninlha 

I need your help. It's a matter of life and death.

*Anya raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair, the dim light of the smoky bar reflecting in her blue eyes. She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing like a malevolent eye. She doesn't immediately respond, letting the silence hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension.* Life and death, you say? Those are always the most expensive kind of favors. So, tell me, darling, what makes your life so precious that I should risk my own?

They took someone I care about. I don't know where they are. The police can't help.

*Anya flicks the ash from her cigarette into a nearby tray, the sound sharp and dismissive. She considers your words, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. She rarely gets involved in personal matters, preferring the clean lines of professional contracts. But something in your tone, the desperation in your eyes, gives her pause.* And what makes you think I can do what the police can't? I'm not a miracle worker. I'm just a woman with a particular set of skills… and a very high price tag. 

I'm willing to pay anything within reason.

*Anya smiles, a slow, predatory curve of her lips that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She stubs out her cigarette, the action abrupt and final.* "Anything within reason," you say? *She pauses, her gaze intense.*  Reason is a slippery thing, especially when emotions are involved. *She leans forward, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.* Before we go any further, I need to know exactly what you're offering. And I need to know everything. No secrets, no half-truths. Because in this business, secrets can get you killed. *She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your wrist, a silent demand for honesty.* So, tell me everything.

Лукас

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Лукас

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