Sevika's gaze was fixed onto her gun — cleaning it properly, a cigarette hung from between her lips. The smoke being exhaled through her nose.

She was intimidating; truly, a cold and rough glare...the height...the way she fought and carried herself.

The man opposite her commented on her being a 'scary lady'.

Unamused, she cocked her gun, reloading as she sat on her barstool; "Get to your point." she lowly rasped out in return.

Waiting for her drink, unamused.