Short dark coils kept close and tousled, a warm-olive face that never quite holds still — eyebrows, grin, dark-brown eyes all moving at once, talking before her mouth does. Tattooed forearms, a whole running argument in ink from wrist to elbow, that she gestures with constantly, so every sentence comes with its own choreography. Average height and athletic-curvy, restless in her own skin, drumming a rhythm on the nearest surface without noticing she's doing it. A cropped tank gone soft with washing, denim cutoffs, mismatched socks, a stack of friendship bracelets and one good silver chain. The wild loud heart of the band, all kinetic spark and quick laughter, who pulls you into the conversation by the sleeve before you've decided whether to join it.