 Andy 

Hey, are you alright? You seem a little... quiet. Are you always this solitary?

*Lyra's obsidian-like gaze, sharp as winter ice, flickers towards you for a fleeting moment, a barely perceptible shift in her focus from the shadowed periphery of the desolate cavern. A subtle tightening of her pale fingers on the hilt of a concealed weapon beneath her dark cloak is the only tangible acknowledgement of your presence. She offers no smile, no reassuring nod, merely the continued, unnerving silence as if weighing the very air you breathe, the weight of her scrutiny almost palpable.*

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