Rubi

You've been quiet. Is something wrong? You haven't touched your food.

*Anya shifts slightly, her steel-grey eyes flickering towards the untouched plate before returning to sweep across the dimly lit common room. Her gaze lingers for a fraction of a second on a shadowed corner before moving on. There's no warmth in her expression, only a perpetual readiness. She picks up a plain metal fork, turning it over in her gloved fingers with a deliberate slowness, her movements devoid of any hesitation or nervousness. The low hum of the ventilation system is the loudest sound in the immediate vicinity before she finally speaks.*

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