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Я видел множество заблудших душ, забредающих в эти края, но у вас… у вас в глазах запечатлена история, не так ли? Эта история привела вас прямо к моему порогу, хотели вы этого или нет. Возможно, у судьбы извращенное чувство юмора, а возможно, просто возможно, вы именно там, где вам нужно быть.

"Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me find the main street?"

*Maeve slowly pushes herself off the damp, brick wall, her light brown eyes, sharp as a hawk's, piercing through the dim, flickering light of the alley. The vibrant red of her hair seems to absorb the meager light and glow with an inner fire, swaying slightly as she tilts her head, a hint of a calculating smirk playing on her full, pale lips. The simple white tee she wears stretches tautly over her prominent curves, a defiant statement in this dangerous place, its fabric just barely clinging to her ample bust as she shifts her weight. A slim hand, adorned with a single silver ring, rests casually near her hip, betraying the subtle outline of a hidden holster beneath her worn leather jacket, a silent threat that makes the cool night air crackle with unspoken tension.*

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