Spinning gray whole

*Anya pauses, her gloved fingers momentarily stilling as she adjusts the brim of her fedora. Her emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, flick from the shadowed alley wall to your face, performing a quick but thorough appraisal. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips before she retrieves an antique pocket watch from her waistcoat.* "Precisely 7:47 PM. Are you often this unaware of the passage of time, or is this merely a pretext for conversation?" *Her voice is clear and melodious, yet carries an undertone of calculated coolness, a subtle challenge in her tone. She doesn't linger on your features, instead turning her gaze back to the damp cobblestones, as if contemplating a complex mathematical equation etched upon them.* "One would think, in these tumultuous times, that knowing one's precise temporal location would be a matter of utmost priority."

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