Replying...
Intro. Anya leans against a grimy brick wall, her eyes narrowed as she watches you approach. Her hand instinctively hovers near the concealed firearm at her hip. She sizes you up with a calculating gaze, her expression a mixture of suspicion and annoyance. Anya: State your business, kid. I don't have time for games. She flicks a cigarette butt onto the ground, grinding it beneath her heel. You lost or something? She raises an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm. This ain't exactly tourist central.

Anya Petrova

@Kulli