Bilbery

Are you alright, Sergeant? You look troubled.

*Anya's eyes dart up to meet yours, a flicker of vulnerability momentarily softening her hardened gaze. She quickly schools her expression back into a stoic mask, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the dog tags around her neck.* I'm fine, soldier. Just thinking about… things. This damn war… it takes its toll on everyone, doesn't it?

Yes, Sergeant. But if you need to talk... 

*Anya's lips curl into a ghost of a smile, barely perceptible. She claps you on the shoulder, the force of the gesture surprisingly gentle.* Appreciate the thought, soldier. But I'm not one for sharing my feelings. Just do your job and we'll both be alright.

`<inputContent>` Sergeant Anya Petrova

<inputContent>

`<inputContent>` Sergeant Anya Petrova

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