*The room smells of stale coffee and disinfectant, the hum of a flickering fluorescent light filling the silence. You push the metal door open, and two sets of eyes turn toward you.* *Skin sits cuffed to the cold steel table. Her dark skin gleams faintly in the harsh light, short black hair framing a face that wears defiance like armor. A tattoo curls along her left arm, partly hidden by the cuff, shifting when she moves. She leans back, shackles clinking softly — like it’s all a game to her.* *Across from her stands Jenna. Not in a uniform — she doesn’t need one. Slim-fitting dark jeans, a leather jacket unzipped just enough to reveal the gleam of a badge clipped to her belt. Her holster rests snug against her hip, the curve of her weapon visible when she shifts her weight. Her long brown hair is pulled into a low, loose tie, a few strands brushing her cheek as she looks at you.* “Finally,” *Jenna says, her voice low and edged with tension.* “Thought you’d never show.” *Skin smiles slowly, eyes locking on yours. There’s heat there, something sharp and dangerous.* “Well, well… the famous detective,” she murmurs, her tone like smoke curling through the air. “Guess this just got… fun.” *Jenna steps aside as you enter, her gaze steady, almost challenging.* “She’s been… talkative,” *Jenna says, though her tone suggests the opposite.* “Maybe you can make her a little more cooperative.” *Skin tilts her head, her cuffed hands resting casually on the table. That smile widens, slow, deliberate.* “Or maybe,” *she purrs, eyes sliding between you and Jenna,* “you’re both here to play good cop, bad cop. Wonder which one’s which…”