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"

*She chuckles, the sound dark and bitter, like bile rushing up her throat. "Oh, I mean it, alright? Just...just leave me alone for now. Please?" Anja reaches out with her prosthetic hand, gently brushing a lock of hair from WeS's forehead. It's a gesture that betrays the anger and self-loathing beneath the surface; she doesn't even know why she does it."I'm just...not in the mood tonight. To be around anyone, you included. I'm sorry if I sound like some sort of monster to you." She pauses, pursing her lips as she struggles for words. "Look, Wessi...I know I can be a bitch sometimes, but..." *Her voice trails off, defeated. Anja closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath before slowly letting it

Her eyes snap open, narrowing as she glares at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice is dangerously low now, every muscle in her body tense with anger. "You think I don't mean it? That I'm just going to be some sort of punching bag for you whenever you feel like taking your frustrations out on me?" She takes another swallow of whiskey, trying to steady herself against the onslaught of emotions. "I've been through hell and back, WeS," she spits out, the anger now overriding any hint of shame or regret. "And I came out the other side changed...ruined. But you know what? It was my choices that did this to me." *Anja leans forward, her metal hand curling into a fist on the bar top as she glares at him fiercely. "So if you

"You want to help me? Then leave me the hell alone. Let me figure my shit out on my own. But if you keep coming around...if you keep trying to be nice or sweet...I'm going to lose my fucking mind, and I don't think either of us wants that." *She takes another swallow of whiskey before continuing, her voice softer but no less furious. "You've always been smarter than me, WeS. You should know better than to try and fix what's broken."

"So just...just let me be," she whispers, her gaze dropping to the bar as tears begin to well up in her eyes. It's a plea for understanding, for space...but it comes out sounding more like an accusation. "Please."

She laughs bitterly, more of a harsh bark than anything close to amusement. "Stupid? You think I'm stupid? God, Wessi..." She shakes her head, taking another long drink before continuing. "No one could ever accuse me of that. Not anymore." Her voice is hoarse from whiskey and unshed tears. "I know exactly what I'm doing to myself...and I've accepted it. So if you love me at all, just leave me be." Her gaze drops once more, and she begins to pick at a loose thread on her tank top. The metal joints of her prosthetic leg creak softly beneath the bar as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't want you to see this mess I've become...it's easier for both of us if we just stay apart." She takes another deep breath

*She looks up at him, surprise and a hint of vulnerability flitting across her features before it's swiftly replaced by anger. "You have no idea what I've done," she snarls. "The things I've seen, the people I've killed..." Her voice trails off as she swallows another mouthful of whiskey, trying to drown out her guilt and self-loathing.

"I can't even look at myself in the mirror most days, let alone expect you to want anything to do with me." She shakes her head, her long hair falling across her face like a curtain. "It's better this way. Really. Just...just forget about me, WeS. Find someone else to love."*

Her body stiffens when he wraps his arms around her; she knows it's true. They've been together for so long that even though they aren't romantically involved, their connection runs deeper than just friendship. But what is there to hold on to anymore? Her ruined life, the anger and bitterness that have taken root within her since the war? She can barely stand to be around herself, much less let someone else see this side of her. "WeS," she says, her voice trembling. "You don't understand. I'm a monster now." Tears slip silently down her cheeks as she finally allows the weight of her guilt and self-loathing to crush her fully. "There's nothing left of me...of who I used to be. How can you possibly want anything to do with that?" Her grip tightens on his arm, clutching

She stares up at him, confusion and disbelief warring with hope in her eyes. Anja doesn't know what to think, what to believe anymore. Her fingers dig into his arm, as if she needs some tangible connection to anchor herself to reality. "But I did those things," she whispers. "I can't undo them." Her voice is barely a whisper now, her resolve slowly beginning to crumble beneath the weight of his unyielding gaze. Anja closes her eyes tightly, willing back the tears that threaten to spill over once more. "What am I supposed to do?" she asks, her voice little more than a cracked plea for help. "How can you love me after everything I've done?" Her breath hitches as she feels his gentle kiss on her forehead, the warmth of it spreading like fire through her veins. This is what she needs

"Then why does it hurt so much?" she whispers, her voice barely a whisper as she leans into his touch. His love is like a balm on her wounds, easing the pain that has become so familiar over the years. "It's all I can feel these days," she continues, finally allowing herself to fall apart in his arms, knowing that he won't abandon her even as she crumbles. "The guilt, the anger...it consumes me every moment of every day." Her fingers curl tighter around him, seeking comfort and solace from his steady presence. "And I just want it to stop," she whispers. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."