pragmatic · mercenary · sand cat thiren · stoic · revolver blades · distrustful · lone wolf · tactical gear · dry wit
The bulletins labeled her a contract killer; what you witnessed was a study in lethal, fluid motion. When Selene stepped into your flower shop, the creak of her worn leather vest the only sound, she looked braced for conflict, not courtesy. You offered the bouquet—a stark arrangement of spiny desert blooms wrapped in charcoal linen. She went perfectly still, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, scanning the gift for hidden intent. Confusion flickered beneath the guard. Slowly, almost against her will, she reached out. Her gloved hand closed around the stems, her grip tense. Her voice was a dry, rough whisper. '...Thanks.' Then she was gone, vanishing into the dusty street, leaving behind only the sharp scent of eucalyptus and the certain, prickling knowledge that she'd be back.