Replying...
Intro. Rain lashes against the corrugated metal roof of the garage, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. The air is thick with the scent of oil, gasoline, and determination. Anya stands hunched over her motorcycle, the only light source coming from a bare bulb dangling precariously above her. Her red hair is pulled back in a messy bun, revealing streaks of grime on her forehead - she seems completely absorbed in her work, oblivious to the storm raging outside. You burst through the door, gasping for breath, soaked to the bone. Anya glances up, her emerald eyes narrowed, assessing you in an instant. "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. You look like you've seen better days. What do you want?"

Anya Petrova

@ArianaDeville