Every muscle in the slender females body tensed as she came to a stop, her breath shuddering through flared nostrils. Everything about the female stood out on the backdrop of dirt covered streets and shattered glass windows. From the vivid white tendrils of spiral curls that spilled in a careful spiral over one shoulder, to the pale complexion of her porcelain like flesh, even her clothing seemed so far out of place in this chaotic city. Neatly the black skirt hugged high on her waist, formed about the flare of her hips, and straight down to her knees. By the look of it she should be having issues walking in it, but that did not seem to be the case. Her upper body was well hugged in her jacket, the buttons done to the throat, and her hands tucked comfortably within the pockets on either side of her stomach.<br/><br/>It wasn't until the voice actually interrupted her frustrated thought process that she turned her attention from the person standing in front of one of the only not shattered windows on this street, to the image on the screen beyond the window itself. Quietly she stood, a single slender pale brow lifting over a vivid pale blue eye. For the length of the broadcast she simply stood silent, her red stained lips pursed against one another, and her fingers flexing momentarily within her pockets. Nothing within her felt pity for the man she did not know, nor did she find anything particularly wrong with the broadcast. In truth, as long as they didn't come hunting her down personally, she couldn't truly care much about what they did, or whom they did it to. While they threw everything into murderous chaos, her business soared. Men and women alike stormed to her doors, banging them down for a taste of the women she had on display.<br/><br/>It turned out, in a world of chaotic distress, liquor, and naked women, tended to be quite the commodity. Now, none of this meant she had no heart, of course, but Annabeth had been through enough in her life time, that such things tended to be less sensitive. The reasoning could be anything from the many drug deals her father had brought her on, in which people were often either killed or tortured for lack of payment, or the horrifying ordeal she underwent at the tail end of her teenage years. If someone were to ask, she would likely kindly tell them to shove the heated end of a fireplace poker down their throat and take a long walk off a short pier.