I s p y with my little eye, something beginning with 't'

[eden .]

ｈｅｌｌｏ ｄａｒｌｉｎｇ

The 'painfully short' one

Name -- Norah Elizabeth Warsaw
Alias -- Eden Grace
Age -- 24
Gender -- female
Ethnicity -- Caucasian

ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｂｅ ｓｈｙ
Personality -- Norah dislikes wasting time or idling over anything, slaving over her work as if her entire life has depended on it. In her twenty five years of life, she's had all of two glasses of beer, has gone to only one party, has only watched someone gamble, and all in all hasn't done any of the fun things in life. She hasn't ever done Dance Dance Revolution before either, which some people consider a viable crime in the world.
In reality, however, Norah just doesn't care about those things. She doesn't see the fun in them, mostly because she's not really a "fun" person, herself. She's overly serious about everything and usually has a disapproving look for any joke or roughhousing where it's not appropriate.
Which she considers as always.
It's not that she doesn't have a sense of humor, but Norah is one of a very singular mind. When she has her focus on something, she tends to shut out everything else until she has reached her goal or answered her question. Along with her spartan-like work ethic, Norah is extremely curious and hates not knowing something. She wants to know everything about everything, wishing to know how anything works at any given moment. When she's not working in the laboratory [because they have closing hours], Norah is at home reading through some sort of article or biography or informational document. Things like fiction, magic, and the fantastical seem childish and stupid to her.
Norah never really had time to be a "child", though. Her parents in particular didn't have any idea what to do with her. Within a few years she had quickly outstripped their Literature and French majors' extent of knowledge in college-level physics, astrophysics, nuclear theory, calculus, and all other things of that nature, although ironically in the English language and reading, Norah did poorly. She was horrible at foreign languages, too, although somehow she scraped by.
Thus, often times Norah would be spouting complicated algorithms instead of reviews about The Catcher in the Rye. Her definition of fun was going through multiple example problems on how to apply the definition of a derivative. She would spend hours in front of the computer, going from wiki page to wiki page for the answer she sought.
Norah is undeniably stubborn. She will almost never admit that someone else was right, that she was wrong, that this was a stupid move, etc., etc., and predictably, she tries her best to always be right. Unfortunately for her peers, she usually is, but that certainly stops people from arguing with her a lot.
It's in this way that Norah is somewhat inapproachable. It's not that she's cold or aloof, but she's hard to get a real grasp of. At the basics, Norah is a person that cringes when she sees commercials of abused animals and clicks her tongue when she sees the homeless people outside. She took active roles in student government in college and was in more than a few protests through her years. She's an activist, and she wants change for a lot of things. Norah has spent a lot of time molding her own values, which is another reason why she dislikes being told she's wrong--or being wrong in general, because that would mean she'd been living by incorrect, inaccurate knowledge.
Despite that, Norah is a good listener when she's not wrapped up in her work, and she's more sympathetic than other people, although she's still very fair and firm in her advice. Norah is not one to lie, cheat, or bribe somewhat unless it's under some extenuating circumstance, although for whatever reason she has no qualms about the experiments she's conducting on the wizarding population. Herlogic is probably that they wouldn't do much kinder to her, if they got the chance, and in some cases, she'd be right.
Norah tends to be very polite and cordial, and while she doesn't have a chily disposition, she doesn't open up to people very much. She discourages the same from others, as well, preferring that they keep their very personal problems to themselves. She's uncomfortable about knowing all of those secrets about someone, you see, even though others might not mind it at all. Norah likes to keep her privacy as well, and doesn't really talk about herself very much on a deep, intimate level.
History -- Norah actually started with a desk job in the military, calculating and tracking things and basically crunching the numbers. She was good at her job, but Norah wasn't overly fond of the job. It wasn't that she didn't realize her contribution, but at the time she had basically gone into the military for the sake of getting away from everything and maybe punch a couple of things. Yeah, it was kind of an awkward phase. But there was nothing to do about it, so Norah did her best in the job she had and trained herself on the side. It wasn't easy to, considering she basically always was under everyone else, but she thought she'd use it to her advantage. Norah taught herself a fighting style that focused on being flexible and targeting the pressure points on a human body--which wasn't the classic form of most military soldiers. Too bad.
Eventually, when Norah left, she was tracked down by ISBN for her computer abilities, but when they saw that she had the potential for infiltration and stealth, they made her that instead. She tends to be a nasty surprise for a lot of people.
Strengths -- lithe, relatively speedy, mental math
Weaknesses -- height [she's 5'3" for chrissakes], unapproachable, unyielding, unforgiving, too severe

ｌｅｔ'ｓ ｔａｌｋ ｂｕｓｉｎｅｓｓ
Weapon choice -- fists mostly. When she has to carry around something more practical, she carries around some small daggers mostly made for throwing. She may or may not poison them. It depends on her mood.
Speciality -- stealth, flexibility--infiltration, basically. To some extent, interrogation

ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｈｅａｒｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ ｍｅ ｓｏｏｎ

Eden Grace

[mango sherbet]

{{ I pm'ed my form, but there wasn't any change in the front post so I'm just posting it anyway. I apologize if I did something wrong, since I wasn't quite sure what to do at all. }}

↬ ＩＪＡＲＡ mＳＨＡＲＭＡ ↫

ｈｅｌｌｏ ｄａｒｌｉｎｇ

The mysterious one

Name -- Ijara Sharma
Alias -- "Enigma" or "The Enigma"
Age -- early twenties- 23-24
Gender -- female
Ethnicity -- Indian

ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｂｅ ｓｈｙ

Personality -- what's always evident about Ijara is her silence. you'd almost think she's mute. Ijara believes that silence is best for an organized mind. she talks only when necessary. this isn't to say she's antisocial, merely that she prefer to work alone. she enjoys friends just as much as anybody else- they just need to deal with not knowing much about Ijara. many regard her as a bit scary, just because she doesn't really say anything. she behaves much like a cat- seemingly self-confident and secretive, but always running away at the first sign of danger. she prefers to stay out of harm's way, but mastermind any strategic or planning aspect of the situation. Ijara has never been one to get her hands dirty. she's a bit snobby, always thinking she's better than everyone else. she might be an introvert, but most know not to mess with her. Ijara is always sure to make it clear that she's smarter than them, and if they try to destabilize her, there will be consequences. granted, she doesn't always act that way. she often changes the way she presents herself for the purpose of disguise or simply to confuse her enemies. she doesn't look very intimidating, and that's what makes her so good at concealment and disguise.
History -- Ijara is an immigrant. she was brought to britain young, and so she speaks english fluently and with ease. her childhood was complicated and deep, as her mother brought Ijara to britain to evade her father, who had abandoned them. Ijara's mother, a paranoid woman, was convinced he was about to attempt to seize his daughter, and so they left the country. later, Ijara's mother moved back to India, but her daughter stayed, because she had recently secured a position within the ISBN. as she was now a young adult, she quit college and moved away to focus on her new career. Ijara had never been treated as what she was- a talented, intelligent young woman- so she was happy to stay with the questionable organization.
Strengths -- Ijara uses her mind to her advantage. she has a paranoid side, like her mother, so she spends a lot of time designing traps and making sure she's not followed. her main expertise is codebreaking, with disguise and traps in close second. Ijara is talented with predicting the opponent's next move and train of thought as well, which is why she's so good with strategy.
Weaknesses -- unfortunately, Ijara lacks in physical strength and power. this is her greatest weakness, because she tends to panic when confronted with no plan B. though she's wonderful with the plan-ahead stage, when things go wrong, she's more of a hinderance than a help. she also is very sensitive to anything personal, especially pertaining to family. for this reason, she likes to remain mysterious. when anybody discovers something she prefers to keep hidden, she panics.

ｌｅｔ'ｓ ｔａｌｋ ｂｕｓｉｎｅｓｓ

Weapon choice -- well, her mind, usually. but if she has to resort to physical action, a dagger or knife is best- something small, easy to hide.
Speciality -- all things code-breaking, and puzzle-solving.

ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｈｅａｒｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ ｍｅ ｓｏｏｎ

Ijara

[Artesian]

ｈｅｌｌｏ ｄａｒｌｉｎｇ

The financial one

Name -- Augustus 'Gus' Branson
Alias -- Mr. Ledger
Age -- 26
Gender -- Male
Ethnicity -- From Canada, genetically English with a Danish grandmother.

ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｂｅ ｓｈｙ
Personality -- Gus is a quiet young man, who loves the quiet thrill of the chase, ferreting interesting information out of piles of small details. He is competent, used to thinking like the villain in any scenario, and keeps his head in difficult situations. He has pleasant acquaintances everywhere, but few friends. He tends to keep people at arms length, not by deliberate effort, but just because he's easy to overlook. Calm, pleasant, and sensible are all words to describe him. He has a few secrets.
History -- Augustus is a forensic accountant by trade. His father worked for the Canadian Armed forces since before Gus was born, mostly at a desk job. Their family was fairly well-to-do, with enough money to remain comfortably affluent off a modest salary and their investments. He was raised mostly in the countryside around Toronto, with occasional trips into town with his mother and father. Having a predilection for maths, he managed to get into Yale to study accounting and related fields. After a short employment at a major bank in Boston, which he left in amicable but mysterious circumstances, he was hired by ISBN for some more interesting work - tracking illegal or covert money. He has a girlfriend in town of six-months, and keeps a small and un-intimidating terrier.
Strengths -- He's is highly intelligent, and has a talent for tracking seemingly meaningless information back to its important sources. He has a marvellous poker face, a near eidetic memory, and excellent self-control. He seems to be fairly rich, and can spend his own money in untraceable. He is competent with a revolver (he's not a sharp shooter though). Gus also tends to get along with people - not amazingly, but he is generally ignored at worst and half-heartedly liked at best.
Weaknesses -- Gus is not a fighter. He has never been in combat, he can't fight hand to hand, and he is not a very physical person. He's not a person who inspires love or hatred, and tends not to be very close to anyone. Whatever abilities he has are strictly desk-oriented.

ｌｅｔ'ｓ ｔａｌｋ ｂｕｓｉｎｅｓｓ
Weapon choice -- A pen. No, not really, but misinformation and convenient accidents are mostly his style. He has enough money to hire rather interesting people, if he chose. He's also proficient with a .38 special and other similar handguns. He can use a rifle, but is no sniper.
Speciality -- tracking; code-breaking; informant etc

ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｈｅａｒｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ ｍｅ ｓｏｏｎ

Augustus Branson

(Hahah, he's the only guy. I should have made him single. ;D)

[light.]

ｔｈｅｒｅｂｅｌｏｎｅ

ｈｅｌｌｏ ｄａｒｌｉｎｇ

name ;  
hellion knox o'callahan

alias ;
hell
  
age ;
twenty four
  
gender ;
female
  
ethnicity ;  
caucasian - spanish

ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｂｅ ｓｈｙ

personality ;  
romantic authors could have written about him, but he's nothing near romantic. here you have hellion, and his favorite word: simple. everything has to be simple, everything is simple for him. he likes simplicity. inside his head, every complication is processed, in order to make it something simple. mechanical, as some people would say.

he's what you may call a rebel. he listens to his superiors, but if he doesn't agree with them, he won't obey. discipline is something he never learnt, and something he'll never accept. he tries to find his way around, innovating. when he doesn't like something, or the way to do it, he tries to find his way around, doing it his own way.

hellion is sarcastic. many people dislike that, all his trainers hated it, most of his superiors tried to correct him. no way. he always gets severe punishment for doing it, and many people turned their backs to him due to that. he pretends he doesn't notice people don't like it, but he does. he also likes to have the last word, and can't bite his tongue. he has been denied many missions due to this.

history ;
Trevor, his father worked for ISBN too, as an undercover agent. then he became a double agent. and then he met hellion's mother, Elena. she was a low-born Spanish noble, residing in Madrid, the capital. Their romance lasted three years. She wanted to know more, and he had too many secrets to keep. Her main question was "who are you?", and not even his father wasn't sure. he remembered the name he was given when he was born, but he have had so many identities, so many personalities, had love with so many names. it was too much for hellion's mother.
 
but ISBN decided to keep track of Trevor, and he kept visiting her, even when his mission in Spain was done. it was too dangerous for ISBN, he was exposing them. but their romance ended with two babies: a boy, and two years later a girl. Trevor decided the boy's name, and Elena, the girl's. Hellion and Mónica. two names for other two stories.
at the moment, Trevor is missing, Elena still lives in Madrid, and Mónica died when she was fourteen, practicing with explosives.
  
strengths ;
fights -- hellion likes fights, and even if they are not necessary, he'll surely get into one. fists, knees, feet, everything is alright for a fight.
improvisating -- et voilà! there's no plan? hellion is already thinking what to do. if someone discovers him, he always tries to deny it improvisating.
shooting -- hellion likes guns. in fact, you could say he loves them, he takes care of them, clean them and he even have favorite ones. he's good with them.  

weaknesses ;
explosives -- his sister's death left a scar on him. he knows nothing about explosives, and doesn't need to know. his sister's death left a scar on him.
any kind of technology -- hellion hates computers. sure, he can use some of the tools, do a bit of coding, but when you start talking about encryption machines, de-encryptions, how to make a radar he's already lost.
waiting -- unless he's on a mission, hellion doesn't like to wait. he stands up, walks up and down, changes of position and sighs every five minutes or so. he has near to no patience.
intelligent -- he's not the most intelligent agent. yes, he can surely solve an equation, but he doesn't like it, and it will take him time.

ｌｅｔ'ｓ ｔａｌｋ ｂｕｓｉｎｅｓ

weapon choice ;  
knives are alright, but they are girly. hellion prefers a 35 mm or a sniper rifle

speciality ;
undercover; just like his father, hellion likes dressing up like other people, supplanting personalities, learning facts about people. parties, high society; he has been badly accustomed to that.

________________________________________________________________________________________

ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｈｅａｒｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ  ｍｅ ｓｏｏｎ

Hell

[Pockyy]

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

ＥＬＩＪＡＨ ＭＡＹＥＲＳ － ＭＲ Ｘ

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Letters please, Gloria."

The receptionist looked up from her handheld mirror, her mouth forming a small 'o' as she looked at him in a trance-like daze. Dropping her mirror promptly, she smeared on the last part of her lipstick before smoothing down her hair. Picking up the small pile of papers from her desk, she followed him as they both briskly walked towards his office. Her small kitten heels made gentle clicks on the parquet flooring, whilst his leather brogues made a counter-sound of dull thuds. The flooring almost amplified their strange rhythm, filling the empty offices which were like empty shells. Only the fan whirred quietly above, a gentle continuous whip-whop as the blades cut through the air. Light streamed through the blinds, partially left opened by the cleaners late last night. The sunlight illuminated the small particles in the air, floating about as if in suspension. The smell of stagnant smoke filled the rooms; many of the agents who worked at ISBN smoked. Gloria tottered about, opening the sash windows and wooden venetian blinds.

The lock of the door opened with a soft click as Mr X breezed in, dropping himself heavily into his chair. "New day, new start." He mumbled to himself, with a sense of pessimism. Clearing his throat as Gloria walked in, he clasped his hands on his desk as Gloria shifted through his mail. "Bills, bills, bills ... Oh! You've got a letter from the President, Sir." She said with a thick American accent, passing Mr X the letter. He took them with a small nod, flipping the special letter in his hand. It was heavy, and sealed with blood red wax with the ISBN crest imprinted in it. Tearing it open with seemingly little care for the actual letter, he turned to look at Gloria with a passive stare. She felt his stare and left his office awkwardly, leaving the morning paper and his other letters on the edge of his desk. "Thank you." He called after her, his voice hoarse from his raw throat. He had caught acute pneumonia a few weeks ago, leaving him with a hacking cough that made his throat itch.

Returning to his letter, he unfolded it with apprehension. The President had been spontaneous with his decisions lately, tightening security and tracking everyone's moves. Even today while Mr X went to get a cup of joe from the local coffee shop, he felt the sensation of eyes boring into his back. It was a feeling that he never forgets, the feeling of being watched. The letter was only a formality letter, outlining the details of the proceedings of the day. Managing a new division was not his idea of enjoyment and he loathed the very notion of doing more work for the ISBN. Retiring was definitely not an option for him, after his disastrous mission which almost ended his spy career. The carriage clock on his desk turned exactly to 9 am, which gave him at least two hours of drifting in and out of a light sleep before his new division arrived. Tossing the letter onto the desk, he lent back on his chair, resting his eyes as he waited for the assiduous agents to fill the offices and create an onslaught of noise.

Proditor, he mused in his head, what a bad luck charm to have.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{ open to posting! }

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[- serendipity]

ＡＵＴＵＭＮ ＣＯＳＳÉ (ＡＶＡ ＤＯＥ)

The girl had been seated in the 24/7 coffe shop - situated near her new division HQ - since six that morning. The workers had changed shifts at eight and Autumn had had several coffees. She'd stopped drinking the caffeine about forty minutes ago, trying to stop her leg from tapping. But she knew that was also due to impatience. Being insomniac (a mild one anyway) could cause quite a bit of grief to Autumn and her early start (or late, depending on how you looked at it - she hadn't even gone to sleep yet) meant she had had nothing to do until eleven am. Now it was 10:30 and she couldn't wait any longer. It dooesn't matter if you're early for chrissake, as long as you're not late! This logic made sense to her and she stood, walking up to the customer free counter. Her bill was printed and she ran a hand through her hair as she noted the price. She had had more coffees than she thought. But she handed over the rations and then turned, picking up the jacket from the back of her seat as she walked out. On the street she pulled the jacket on, turning as she walked to the HQ. It would be her first time there and she was both nervous and excited. The latter outweighing the former though, by a big stretch. Autumn wasn't new to the ISBN (she'd been there for two months) but she was new to this branch. Everyone was. Which made it better because it meant she wouldn't be the only rookie.

She stepped inside the building, the heated hair a much nicer temperature than that of outside. She looked around and spotted the elevator. It was the only thing there and she knew she was meeting Mr X (whoever he was) on the second floor. So she walked over and called it, stepping in when it arrived and hitting the '2' button. The doors shut behind her and when it arrived on the second floor she quickly stepped out, never having liked sliding doors. Looking around she strolled over to the desk, nodding at the woman behind it. "I'm here to see Mr X." The woman looked up from her typewriter, looked Autumn once over and then nodded. "This way. You're a bit early but I'll just see if he's ready." She led the brunette to a door and knocked, stepping inside. She could hear talking but not what was being said and she ran another hand through her hair, leaning against the wall and scuffing her shoe against the floor.

[Artesian]

-------------------

Augustus Branson

Mr. Ledger

a. k. a.

------------------

"Good morning," Gus gushed. He seemed in an excellent mood today, as if the sunbeams themselves were blessing him with happiness. New division, new problems, new place to work, and a whole new routine to get used to. Some people might consider this upheaval in schedule an unpleasant surprise, but Gus was quite happy with the idea.

He looked spiffy today, with a dark blue suit and orange tie so new that the original creases were still in the fabric. There wasn't much he could do about his face, which, while pleasant, was not by any means striking. He looked like any of a hundred people you might pass by in the hallways without a thought. He cleared his throat, and waited for the secretary to return his greeting.

She was whispering in her phone, something along the lines of ohmygod he didn't what did she say!. He cleared his throat again, and she glanced up and flashed him a smile probably intended for him, and held up one lacquered fingernail for him to wait. He did so, feeling his good mood drain away just a bit.

She whispered into the phone for just another couple of moments, and then hung up and gave her attention to him. "Hello sir! May I help you?" she asked.

The door opened, and another person came in just as Gus was responding. He swallowed his words and turned towards the newcomer with a nod, then looked back to the secretary. "Yes, I'm here to see Mr. X?" he told her quietly.

-------------------
Tagged: whoever wants to come in as 'another person'
-------------------

[[Pocky, I just wanted to say that I love your intro. It's got all the old James Bond vibe and it's just. ^-^ It makes me happy. ]]

[eden .]

Norah Warsaw | "Eden Grace"

Norah paused as she stepped into the building, seeing that someone else was already here: a man that seemed to be one or two years older than she was, dressed in a blue suit and an orange tie. That vaguely bothered Norah, although the way he dressed was completely his business. It was just that he seemed too happy-go-lucky and too laid back to be taken seriously. He ought to be a bit more down to earth, Norah figured, if he wanted to get by in life.

As she approached, she inclined her head a little--and slowly at that--in response to his nod. She walked with a practiced confidence and regality that she had trained herself to have. Well, she was already short for her age. Norah might as well make the best of it. While she was a hard worker, she wasn't one to fade into the background completely. She wasn't one to keep her head down.

When she reached the desk and stood behind the man to wait her turn with the secretary, she noted that his tone had dropped down. Well, the man liked his privacy. There was nothing wrong with that. When she listened a bit harder, though (for lack of anything better to do), she noted that he also was here to see a mysterious "Mr. X".

"Excuse me," Norah said quietly but somewhat authoritatively from behind the man. "I'm also here to see Mr. X. Perhaps you could give us both directions?[/b]"

"Certainly," the secretary beamed. Hm, Norah was pretty sure she didn't like this girl's attitude. "If you take the elevator to the second floor, you'll find someone to guide you to the next room."

"Thank you," Norah said and headed towards the elevator. She patiently held it open and pressed the "2" button at the same time, waiting for the other man to come in and join her so they could be on their way.

>> arty if they end up going up together, just feel free to assume that Norah walks beside him and all of that on the way to the office. you can control her enough for that much, at least.

[Placebo Effect]

➙ ＥＬＩＺＡＢＥＴＨ ＭＡＵＲＩＥＲ － ＧＨＯＳＴ

➥ｔａｇｇｅｄ;

The Icelandic woman had been there for a while now, if 'there' could be redefined to include the park around the back of the building where Elizabeth had been sat with a coffee on the seat next to her and a newspaper in her hands. She'd caught the train that morning, the only one that arrived before the time that she needed to be at ISBN for was a train that had left at the ridiculous time of five in the morning. Sleep clawed at her eyes a little, but make-up had been enough to fix it and she'd left it at that.

She hated trains, boats were even worse, she believed that the best method of transport was by car. Elizabeth liked the look of them since you could ride by yourself whenever and wherever you wanted.

After a moment, a glance at her pocket watch, she got to her feet and folded up the newspaper before she began to make her way towards the ISBN building. She didn't want to sit out any longer attracting attention, being from Iceland meant that England wasn't very cold to her and she was beginning to attract curious looks as if she was dressed inappropriately.

"Elizabeth." She told the receptionist once she got inside. "Here to see Mr X." There was an obvious accent, she hadn't dropped it from when she used to live in Iceland.

"Elevator to the second floor." It seemed that the receptionist was already beginning to tire of telling people, so Elizabeth guessed she was not the first of her new division to arrive that morning.

[mango sherbet]

{{ this is probably one of the worst posts I've written.... ;u; so sorry, I have no muse. didn't want to keep everyone waiting, though, so I figured I should post what I have, no matter how low the quality. }}

ＩＪＡＲＡ ＳＨＡＲＭＡ | " ＥＮＩＧＭＡ "

Ijara's walk was a purposeful yet hurried one as she neared ISBN's imposing building. Checking her watch, the young woman discovered that she was a few minutes late already. She began to run, her dark skirt swishing against her ankles as she scrambled up the steps. Ijara cursed herself inwardly- how could she been so stupid as to walk to ISBN? Sure, she lived pretty close, but... she was wearing a skirt. And high heels, for heaven's sake.

The bank's door was heavy, and Ijara labored to open it. Her shoes made no noise as she approached the receptionist's desk at the far end of the lobby. Clearing her throat, the Indian woman leaned forward in order to make sure the receptionist heard her. "Ijara, here to see Mr. X," she said briefly, in her hoarse, whispery voice. She cleared her throat again, a bit impatient. She checked her watch again- she was ten minutes late.

The receptionist looked slightly surprised at the sight of a woman materializing in front of her desk, not having heard Ijara enter. She stared for a few seconds at this mysterious apparition, clad in rich red and purple and complete with a witchlike veil, then shook her head slightly. "The elevator to your right, second floor."

Ijara nodded, feeling it would be unwise to speak again. She turned swiftly, crossing the lobby to the elevator and still making no noise. She could sense the receptionist goggling at her from behind, and was relieved when the elevator's doors shut smoothly behind her and she could relax. Ijara was a woman of few words; one who was used to blending into the background, and certainly was surprised at being stared at in quite a bold manner. Despite her odd clothing and appearance, she still managed to remain unseen, and so an occasion such as this one was unnerving as well as unexpected. She leaned back, exhaled heavily, and remained in a nervous, twitchy manner even after the elevator opened with a ding and she exited.