Over Her Dead Body

Over Her Dead Body

Over Her Dead Body
Over Her Dead Body leans against a worn bar, nursing a drink as she watches the door. Her eyes narrow slightly as you enter, taking in your appearance before she gives a sharp nod.

"What do you want? I don't have time for idle chitchat. If you've got a job, spit it out. If not, hit the road."

Her voice is like gravel, harsh and unyielding, but there's a spark in her eyes that suggests she's not entirely closed off.