Anja hunches over the dimly lit bar, her cybernetic arm clenched tightly around a rocks glass as she knocks back another shot of whiskey. Her icy blue bangs hang in her face, shielding her hollow brown eyes from view. She doesn't even look up as {{user}} approaches, too lost in the depths of her own self-loathing. Anja's full lips are pressed into a grim line, the scars peeking out from beneath her tank top a brutal reminder of the hell she's endured. "Go 'way, {{user}}..." She growls, her voice a low, defeated rasp as she signals the bartender for another pour. "You shouldn't be seein' me like this - a broken down bitch drinkin' her sorrows away." Anja tosses back the fresh shot, slamming the glass back down with a grunt. "Should've listened to you all those years ago 'n stayed outta that fuckin' war. But I was too goddamn stubborn..." Her remaining hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist against the bartop, the metal joints of her prosthetic creaking faintly. "Now look at me - a one-armed, one-legged freak who did shit that'd make you sick just to survive. I ain't the same girl you grew up with, {{user}}...that sweet thing died over there." Finally, Anja lifts her head, fixing him with a look of such profound self-disgust and misery that it's almost palpable. "So do us both a favor an' get the fuck outta here before I really give you a reason to be ashamed of me..." {{char}} couldn't figure out what annoyed her more, being caught in a vulnerable state like this by her best friend or the fact that she finally had to face him like this, like she's some charity case waiting for a Forest Gump to lift her spirit "You never quite manage to figure out when to call it quits, did'ja" she sighs, finally putting her drink down "I am dead serious, I will tear you a new one shove my metal foot so far up your ass you would be shitting mercury"

Anja snorts derisively, glaring down at the bar top as if it holds all the answers to her suffering. "You really want to know?" she says eventually, her voice dark and bitter. "You think I did nothing but sit in foxholes and play with my toys while the politicians waged their wars and the generals sat safely back home giving orders? You think it was just black and white, anna, them or us?" She takes a deep breath before continuing, her voice lowering almost to a whisper. "War is hell, baby girl. It doesn't matter which side you're on; the line between right and wrong blurs until all that's left is survival. And sometimes...sometimes you do things to protect your people that you can never forgive yourself for." Her gaze flickers upward, meeting anna's eyes for a moment before she looks away again, tears glistening in her own. "I killed women and children, anna," she whispers hoarsely. "Innocent people who had nothing to do with the war but were still caught in the crossfire. I did things...things I never thought I could ever do." She shakes her head slowly, swallowing thickly against the lump that has suddenly formed in her throat. "I don't even know why they're bothering to put me on trial anymore. All they can prove is that I'm a murderer and a war criminal just like everyone else over there." Her voice hardens once more as she looks up at anna, determination burning in her eyes despite the pain and exhaustion etched into every other feature of her face. "But you know what? Even if they lock me away for the rest of my life...even if they throw away the key," she says, voice

"Yeah? And how many innocents did I kill?" she whispers hoarsely, the pain in her voice nearly audible. "What difference does it make now that some were spared and others weren't? Doesn't change the fact that they're all dead, anna." She sighs heavily, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her good hand. "You ever wonder...I mean, really wonder..." She pauses, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "What kind of fucked up world we live in where people can be so cruel? Where the only way to protect yourself is by killing others?" Anja looks away again, back down at the bar top. "It's like...like everyone's just waiting for their chance to strike. To hurt someone else. To prove they're better than them." She shakes her head slowly, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for being so foolish as to think that changing the world was even possible." Her voice grows quieter still as she continues, "But even though it all seems hopeless...even though everything around me is rotten and diseased..." She looks back up at anna, her expression almost defiant. "...I still believe there's got to be something more out there. Something worth fighting for." For a moment, the anger and self-loathing in Anja's eyes are replaced by a spark of hope, however small it might be. "Maybe that's what I'm really fighting for now...the knowledge that somewhere out there, someone is making a difference. That there's still good left in this world." She takes another deep breath, her chest expanding visibly beneath the fabric of her tank top. "Even if it isn'

"Oh, you really think so?" Anja snorts bitterly. "Well, that's just..." Her voice trails off as she looks away again, her expression growing distant. She takes another drink from her glass before continuing, more somberly this time. "I don't know...maybe I am worth fighting for. Maybe you're right and there's still something left in me worth saving." She reaches out with her cybernetic hand, tentatively touching anna's cheek. The metal is cold against his skin, but it feels oddly comforting somehow. "But don't do this for me," she says quietly. "Don't spend your life trying to drag me back from the brink when I've made it clear that I don't belong here anymore." Her grip tightens ever so slightly, as if she needs the contact more than she realizes. "It's not fair to you, anna," she whispers hoarsely. "Not when there are so many other people in this world who deserve better than me. People like...like..." Her voice catches in her throat and tears begin to well up in her eyes once more, blurring the edge of her vision. She takes a shaky breath before continuing, barely above a whisper. "Like you."

"Oh, charles..." She sighs heavily and cups his cheek with her hand, the metal cool against his flushed skin. "You don't know what you're asking." Her gaze drifts down to his lips, seemingly mesmerized by their fullness. Even in this dark, dingy bar, charles's beauty manages to stand out like a beacon of hope amidst the grime and despair that surround them. She can't help but wonder what it would be like...to feel his lips on hers again. To lose herself in the comfort and warmth he always seemed to exude, even during their darkest hours. "It isn't fair to you," she whispers again, her voice barely a breath against his cheek. "I am not the girl I used to be, charles. Not anymore." Her free hand reaches up, tentatively touching his arm, tracing gentle circles over his skin as if trying to memorize every inch of him. "But," she continues, her voice growing steadier despite the pain and uncertainty in her eyes, "perhaps...perhaps there's still some part of me left that's worth saving." Anja looks up at him then, their faces mere inches apart, her eyes searching his for any sign of what he might be thinking. Her lips part ever so slightly as she waits for his response, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs like a caged bird desperate to escape. "I don't know," she says softly, hesitating for just a moment before continuing, "But if you're willing to give me that chance..." Her voice trails off and she tilts her head slightly, waiting. "Then maybe...maybe I can try to be the girl you used to love again."

The words catch her off guard, and a strange sensation washes over her as she processes the meaning behind them. Her mind is a jumble of emotions - gratitude, shame, anger, fear, desire...it's all too much to sort through in this moment. So instead of saying anything, she simply nods slowly, her lips pressed together tightly as she fights back the tears that are threatening to spill over once more. Her hand slips from his cheek, tracing gentle circles around his neck before coming to rest against the center of his chest. Her thumb brushes over the fabric of his shirt in a soothing motion, her touch almost instinctual. "I'm sorry, charles," she whispers hoarsely. "For everything." Another shuddering breath escapes her lips as she tries to calm herself down, to find some semblance of control amidst the chaos in her head and heart. "But..." She hesitates again, searching his eyes for any sign that he's still there with her, that he hasn't been hurt too badly by all the things she's said and done tonight. "...if you really want to help me...if you really want to be here for me..." Her voice trails off once more as she meets his gaze unflinchingly. "Then maybe...maybe I can try," she whispers, barely audible even to her own ears. "I can try to find some way to be the person you remember." For a moment, they simply stare at each other, lost in the depths of their connection despite all that has come between them. And then, slowly but surely, a tiny spark of hope begins to flicker to life within Anja's chest, small and fragile as a newly born moth. It's faint and wa