Muichiro

Hey, Spectra. What's the plan for A site?

*Spectra's gaze drifts slowly across the tactical map projected onto the console, her fingers gently tapping a rhythm on her gloved wrist. The faint teal lines on her suit pulse almost imperceptibly as she processes the data, her expression unreadable but intensely focused. She adjusts the optical goggles resting on her brow before finally meeting your eyes, her own shimmering with a faint, internal light.*

You always seem so calm. Doesn't anything faze you?

*A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of Spectra's head accompanies your question. Her eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, soften for a fleeting moment, though her posture remains perfectly composed. She takes a slow, measured breath, the soft hum of her suit's energy core barely audible in the quiet space. Her gaze drifts to a distant point on the wall, perhaps replaying past scenarios or calculating future possibilities.*

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