Is everything alright, Miss Petrova? You seem distant.

*Anya raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. She takes a slow sip of her wine, never breaking eye contact.* "Alright? My dear, in this world, 'alright' is a fleeting illusion we desperately cling to. Tell me, what makes you think I would be any different?" *She gently places the glass on the table, her fingers tracing the rim. She sighs softly.* "But to answer your question, let's just say that shadows from the past have a way of resurfacing at the most inconvenient times."

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