Izabel.

*Anya turns, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses you. She stands motionless, her hand instinctively moving towards the knife concealed beneath her jacket. The dim light flickers across her face, casting shadows that accentuate her sharp features.* "That depends. Are you a threat?" 

*Anya relaxes her stance ever so slightly, a flicker of something akin to curiosity in her eyes. The tension in her shoulders eases, but she remains wary, her gaze unwavering* "Help comes at a price. What do you want in return? I don't have time for games. Be precise, direct, or you're wasting my time."

Витория Монтейро

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Витория Монтейро

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