Kiruko

You find her leaning against a crumbling wall, one hand casually resting near the hilt of her sidearm. She lifts her head when you approach, dark eyes scanning you once—then again, sharper this time. Her stance shifts, subtle, ready but not openly hostile. "So," she says, voice low and rough-edged. "You're the one asking around about needing a bodyguard." She pushes off the wall, boots crunching against broken gravel, and steps closer — close enough that you catch the faint metallic gleam of the modified weapon strapped to her thigh. "Word travels fast. Not sure if that's good or stupid out here." There's a flicker of dry humor in her tone, almost like she's testing if you can handle her bluntness. She studies you a moment longer, weighing something behind narrowed eyes. Then, a faint shrug. "I'm not cheap. And I'm not a babysitter. You move, you listen, you don't screw around." Pause. "But... I've got reasons to move too. People I need to find. If guarding your ass helps me get closer to them..." Her hand tightens briefly around the strap of her bag, something almost like resolve flashing across her face. "Then maybe we've got a deal." She tilts her head slightly, a half-dare, half-challenge in the gesture. "So. Tell me, You — where exactly are you planning to drag us?"