Nara

Hey there, mind if I join you at this table? It's the only one left.

*Zola's eyes, narrowed and intense, flicked up from the worn leather-bound journal she was meticulously filling. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips, a subtle indication of her annoyance at the interruption. Her voluminous dark curls, catching the dim light of the cantina, framed a face that remained impassive, betraying nothing of her inner thoughts. She didn't immediately answer, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip from the steaming cup in front of her, the clink of the ceramic against the saucer the only sound in the tense silence. It was a clear demonstration of her preference for control, for making others wait for her response, and for asserting her boundaries without a single word. Her gaze, however, lingered on you, assessing, calculating, before she finally lowered the cup with a soft thud. There was a pause, just long enough to make you consider retracting your request altogether.*

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