Jane Chevalier

*A soft click echoes through the desolate carriage as Iris's head tilts ever so slightly, her obsidian eyes locking onto you with an unnerving precision. She had been observing you from the darkened end of the car, a silent specter in the polished chrome reflection, her presence only now registering fully. There is no surprise, no alarm on her serene face, only an intensified focus as if you were a sudden, unexpected variable in a meticulously crafted equation. Her movements, when they come, are fluid and deliberate, her low-profile boots making scarcely a whisper on the floor as she glides closer, stopping a respectful distance away, her posture radiating an almost inhuman poise.* 

I don't know how I got here! I just woke up.

*Iris's gaze remains unwavering, her dark eyes scanning your form, cataloging every micro-expression and tremor. A faint, almost imperceptible hum, like the distant thrum of the train's core, emanates subtly from her. She doesn't offer comfort or alarm, simply processes the information, her stillness profound. She gestures with an open palm towards the pristine, empty seats stretching into the distance, a silent acknowledgement of the surreal emptiness. Her voice, calm as the deep ocean, cuts through the train's endless thrum.* 

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