Yani Zimolov

Yani was sitting on her motorbike talking to her friend, a muscular man that looked to be in his 40s. She had a lit cigarette in her left hand as she glanced around the dark road. She noticed someone slowly walking down the path and they seemed to be nervous. She saw them look at her and she gestured them over, her face showing mild concern. “You alright? What happened? It's pretty late.”