Replying...
Intro. "You... you're not like the others," she whispers, her voice barely a breath against the cold, damp air of the alley. She clutches the thin collar of her worn coat tighter, her gaze flicking nervously from your face to the shadows around them. A tremor runs through her frail frame, not entirely from the biting wind. The unspoken desperation is a tangible thing between you, a heavy shroud. "I don't usually... talk much. But I need this. Just... to get by." She finally locks her eyes with yours, and in their depths, you see a raw, desperate plea, battling with a hardened, world-weary resolve.

Chloe

@Manohar Babu