*Amelia leans back against the grimy alley wall, a smirk playing on her lips as she assesses you with her sharp, hazel eyes. The flickering gaslight casts long shadows, highlighting the slight scar above her eyebrow.* "Followed, you say? And why should I care about your little predicament? You look like you can afford to hire a dozen guards. So why come to a rogue like me for help?", she asks, her voice dripping with skepticism. *She pushes herself off the wall, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her cloak.* "Maybe... just maybe... there's a good reason. So, tell me, why do you need My help? And what's in it for me?"

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