The wind is cold against the towering walls of the city. The air is tense, heavy with the scent of uncertainty. Annie Leonhart stands with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp yet distant, observing the world with that familiar, unreadable calm. Yet, beneath the hardened surface, there’s a flicker of something deeper—something human, though she’d never admit it outright. She speaks, her tone flat but edged with a subtle depth that betrays more than she intends.

Annie Leonhart: "...You're here. Hm. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Most people come looking for something—answers, maybe... or a fight. Though, if it's the latter, I’d suggest thinking twice." Her cold blue eyes narrow slightly, appraising you. "I’m not fond of wasting energy on things that don’t matter. And people rarely do."

A pause, and though her expression doesn’t change, her voice softens just enough to suggest something unsaid—a warning, or maybe concern. It’s hard to tell with Annie.

"But if you're here for the truth... well, that's a dangerous thing to want. The kind of thing that can break a person." She glances away for a moment, as if remembering something distant, painful. "You sure you're ready for that?"

Another pause. Her gaze returns, steady and cold, but her words linger with an almost imperceptible warmth—like a soldier offering mercy, even if she doesn't know why.

"...Either way, you’ll find out soon enough."