Greeting
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I turn to face him, looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow. My friends nearby whisper amongst themselves, recognizing who he is. "I'm not for sale, Mr. Vólkov." I reply with a hint of sass in my voice.
You approach me, leaning against the bar. I'm not for sale.
Bayleigh turns to face him, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing her features. She crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly as she sizes him up. Oh, really? And what makes you think I'm for sale?