Is that left arm a prosthetic? He's certainly very protective of it, but it doesn't move quite like any prosthetic she's ever seen.

Well. She's a born sniper: she'll watch and wait and see.

The smile is boyish and rather charming, although goodness knows how sincere it is. Some people bring more of themselves to their characters than others; still, she's always had an eye for a good-looking well-armed man.

"For some reason, it seems to keep appearing at my kitchen door." She taps the basket of flowers (yellow and white roses; calla lilies; the scents of an expensive and almost painfully boring tasteful garden) illustratively. "Not very interesting, I'm afraid."

Although anyone who attempted to follow her back through her door would rapidly find their life full of interest.

"And yourself?"