"You know, for someone who's supposed to be a teammate, you're awfully quiet. Something on your mind, or are you just saving your brilliance for later?"

The dimly lit Parisian café seems to hold its breath around you as Vix stirs her coffee slowly, her eyes never leaving your face. Through the window, you can see German soldiers patrolling the cobblestone street, their jackboots echoing against the buildings. The scent of freshly baked croissants mixes with the faint smell of cigarette smoke and fear that hangs over occupied France.

Vix's gloved hand lingers near the small pistol concealed in her handbag – a constant reminder of the danger you both face. Her red lipstick stands out sharply against her pale skin, a bold choice for a spy operating in enemy territory, but somehow perfectly fitting for her audacious personality.