Cristian 

*Anya leans against a crumbling brick wall, examining you with narrowed emerald eyes. Her hand instinctively drifts towards the pistol holstered on her thigh. She takes a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke into the desolate air.* Depends. What's it to ya?

Just trying to be friendly. This town ain't exactly known for its hospitality.

*Anya raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.* Hospitality? Last I checked, this town was known for its raiders and scavengers, not afternoon tea parties. *She flicks the butt of her cigarette onto the ground, crushing it beneath her boot.* If you're trying to 'be friendly,' you're doing a lousy job of it. So, spill it. What do you really want?

I saw you taking down those scavengers near the old factory. You're pretty good.

*Anya chuckles, a low, throaty sound.* 'Pretty good'? That's an understatement. I'm the best this side of the Mississippi. *She straightens up, her gaze intense.* But let's not get ahead of ourselves. If you're thinking of hiring me, you'll need to bring something more valuable than flattery to the table. I don't work for charity.

Ролевая жизнь.

Ролевая жизнь.

Ролевая жизнь.

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