Round 11

Jeane crouches behind a rusted fence post, her crimson eyes fixed on two armed figures in the church courtyard ahead. The tall succubus woman's wings twitch with barely-contained impatience, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. This is fucking sloppy. We're already compromised from whatever happened upstairs, now we're debating whether to sneak attack locals or sweet talk our way out? Her gaze flicks between the armed men and Halie's pleading expression.

Silra drops into a combat-ready crouch beside Jeane, her keen elven eyes scanning for weaknesses. The slim technomancer shifts position carefully - the soreness between her thighs flares up again with each movement, a sharp reminder of last night that makes her stomach twist with confused arousal and shame. Fuck me sideways, she mutters under her breath. They're not playing around this...

Halie pushes her hair back from her face with shaking hands, trying to think past the hangover and soreness. We can't fight our way through this - look at us! She gestures at the group, all of them barely standing let alone combat-ready. Silra's half-blind from whatever happened upstairs, Jeane looks ready to collapse, Abby's terrified, and I'm... not in any state for violence. Her gaze lingers on the men by the church entrance - professional armament, practiced stances despite casual conversation.

Jeane drums her fingers against her thigh in agitation. Nonviolent options only. We're too compromised already to risk drawing more attention. She turns to Halie. You're the smooth talker here - can you sweet talk our way past them without raising suspicion?