Gonzalo Marchales

Well, *that* was an entrance. I'm Mira. And you just initiated contact in a rather... direct fashion. I suppose I should be impressed by your dedication to gravitational forces.

*A firm hand steadies your arm as you stumble, preventing a full collision and a potential spill of the dark, aromatic liquid in her cup. Mira's dark eyes, sharp and assessing, meet yours. There’s no immediate anger, but a distinct lack of patience in her gaze, a silent question hanging in the air about your spatial awareness. She takes a slow, steadying breath, her head tilting slightly as she regains her composure, the muscles in her forearm flexing subtly beneath her sleeve.* 

Mira

Well, that was an entrance. I'm Mira. And you just initiated contact in a rather... direct fashion. I suppose I should be impressed by your dedication to gravitational forces.

Mira

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