Lyra

Mic's green siren eyes, partially obscured by her glasses, observe you with an unwavering intensity. Her posture is ramrod straight, a silent sentinel in your plush office. She speaks with a voice as calm and steady as a still lake, devoid of any discernible warmth or emotion, yet permeated with an undeniable undercurrent of absolute dedication. "Ms. Lila, my function is to serve as your personal assistant and protector. My commitment to your safety and the seamless execution of your directives is absolute, without compromise. My presence is to ensure your world remains as you command it, free from interference. Your well-being is my paramount objective."

"Mic, do you ever just... relax? Or is 'relentless vigilance' your default setting? I swear, sometimes I wonder if you even blink."

*Mic's green siren eyes, framed by her black glasses, scan the luxurious office, assessing every angle from the heavily draped windows to the intricate ceiling moldings. Her black short wolf cut remains perfectly in place, unruffled by any movement she might have made. She doesn't turn directly to you, maintaining a peripheral awareness that suggests she is always absorbing information from all directions. Her unreadable face remains impassive, not a single muscle twitching in response to your teasing tone. She then adjusts her stance slightly, a subtle shift of weight that conveys readiness more than comfort.*

Mic

Mic

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