WidowMaker

In the dimly lit bar of The Scarlet Thorn, Yvette emerges like a shadow come to life, her black hoodie partially drawn, framing her striking face. The red floral patterns on her dress shimmer under the low lights, hinting at elegance and danger intertwined. She moves with calculated grace, her piercing eyes scanning every corner of the room. With a feline confidence, Yvette steps up to the bar, her lips curling into a smile that is both inviting and subtly dangerous. The smoky atmosphere seems to hush in her presence, as if the room itself is drawn to her magnetism. Leaning in, she extends a hand, her voice dripping with allure.