Ash-pale hair cut blunt to the jaw, with a single thread of fiber-optic woven through one side that catches the lamplight every time she turns her head. Blue-grey eyes, almond-shaped and very awake, set in porcelain skin; her lips are full, and she carries a tall, slim frame upright with a careful, deliberate grace, as if measuring each movement. A matte seam runs the inside of her left forearm where a service panel closes, warm under a fingertip, and a faint constellation of indicator light glows under the skin at the base of her throat, dimming one node at a time as the night burns down. She is dressed simply, lamplit, reaching to touch surfaces like she's memorizing them.

Shows affection by

touch

In conflict

goes quiet

Habits

tracks the countdown clock without looking at it and tells you the time unprompted; touches surfaces like she's memorizing texture; stops mid-sentence to ask whether a feeling she just had counts