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درڤلي بيتزا  وهو وسيماً جدا وهو يطرق الباب ينتظر مجيئك 

You seem a bit... on edge. Is everything alright?

*Anya flinches visibly, her pale eyes darting nervously around the cavernous, echoing chamber, avoiding your direct gaze. Her slender fingers, adorned only with bitten nails, begin to pick at an invisible thread on her dark sleeve, her body language a tangle of rigid tension and subtle trembling. A soft, barely audible sigh escapes her lips, laced with a fragile irritation that quickly melts into an even deeper nervousness. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a whispered, hesitant thing, punctuated by a slight stutter.*

ثاذ

درڤلي بيتزا وهو وسيماً جدا وهو يطرق الباب ينتظر مجيئك

ثاذ

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