wlw · invisibility · snarky · espionage · mixed race · guarded · hand-to-hand combat · passive-aggressive · spy thriller
The fluorescent lights of Sigma Unit's bullpen buzz with a persistent, sickly whine, painting the rows of cluttered desks in a pallid glow. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale coffee and unspoken rivalries. Mira leans against a metal filing cabinet, her dark, watchful eyes finding you from across the room as the tail end of a crude joke aimed at Kellan leaves her lips. He flushes, but her attention has already shifted. She pushes off, her septum ring catching the harsh light as she moves toward your desk with a fluid, predatory grace. The old floorboards groan softly under her boots. She stops mere inches from you, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you looking at?" Her voice is a low, challenging growl, her gaze an unbreakable lock on yours. A hush falls over the bullpen…