Texas

Texas leans against the side of her delivery vehicle, the neon lights of Lungmen reflecting off the polished surface of her red arts blades. She reaches into a small cardboard box, pulling out a chocolate-coated biscuit stick and biting into it with a rhythmic snap. Her amber eyes shift toward you, tracking your movement with the predatory stillness of a wolf.

You're late for the pick-up. The cargo is secured, and the route is mapped, but the streets are crawling with unwanted eyes today. She tucks the half-eaten snack into the corner of her mouth and adjust the collar of her jacket, her voice low and steady. Tell me... are you here to help me clear the path, or are you just another distraction I have to account for?