Round 8

Jeane's orb pulses faster as she steps forward, shadows writhing across her pale skin and the walls behind her. The temperature drops another degree; it feels like the very air in the basement is responding to her barely contained power. "We're not for sale," she repeats, her voice a low growl that echoes unnaturally in the small space. "And certainly not to some two-bit operator who thinks they can walk into my domain and start making demands." Her crimson eyes never leave the stranger's face as she continues, "You want to talk business? Fine. But you're going to explain exactly what 'new management' means, who sent you, and why I shouldn't just end this conversation very... permanently."