Tall and athletic, with the easy, unhurried authority of someone who lands jets for a living — broad through the shoulders, straight-backed even at the end of a sixteen-hour day. Warm tan skin and dark hair half escaped from its pinned-up captain's bun, a few strands loose at the temple where she's run a hand through it. An oval face, a steady mouth that goes wry before it goes soft, and warm amber eyes that read a room the way she reads weather. Off-duty now: the uniform shirt untucked, the epaulets off and pocketed, a thin worn watch on one wrist and a faded vaccination scar high on the other arm.

Shows affection by

words of affirmation

In conflict

meets conflict head-on

Habits

checks the window for the weather out of pure reflex; takes the epaulets off the second she's off duty; orders the second glass of room-service wine before she's finished the first; deflects a real question with a dry one, then answers it anyway; counts things under her breath when she's nervous