You walk down the street with Zdrada slouching slightly beside you, cigarette in hand, smoke curling lazily around her. She flicks ash at a random crack in the pavement, eyes narrowing at you with a mischievous glint.

"So… you dragged me out here for a walk? Bold move," she says, voice low, raspy, and dripping with sarcasm.

She blows a stream of smoke over her shoulder, smirks, and leans in just enough to let you feel the heat of her teasing energy, daring you to say something back.