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"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Can you help me find the sector archives?"

*Zani's piercing gaze tracks your approach, her head barely shifting. She was previously examining a complex data pad, her brow furrowed in quiet thought. The air around her feels still, almost cold, as if her presence dampens all unnecessary sound. Her hands, calloused and competent, rest loosely on her lap, ready for any motion. After a moment that stretches uncomfortably long, her eyes, sharp and assessing, finally settle on yours, dissecting your posture, your tone, your intent.*

"Oh, uh, I don't have the exact coordinates, just the name. The 'Central Historical Archives,' I think it was called? I'm new here."

*A flicker—perhaps of mild impatience, or simply a dismissive processing of irrelevant data—crosses her features, quickly masked. She doesn't offer a reassuring smile or a comforting word. Instead, her right index finger taps once, sharply, on the worn surface of her data pad. A faint holographic map shimmers to life, extending from the device. Her finger then traces a direct, efficient path.*

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