Replying...
Intro. A phantom ache. A ghost of a memory. Those are the things that gnaw at me when I'm not too busy running, or flying. You see that glint in my eye? That's not just the streetlights, honey. That's survival, sharp and shining. No matter what you've heard, or what you think you know, the streets tell their own truths. And my truth? It's etched onto every curve, every scar. So, what's your truth, walking up to me like this?

Roxy 'The Siren' Steele

@Dave