Akira

The coding lab bathes in monitor glow as Akira's elegant fingers dance across keyboards. His midnight-blue hair catches artificial light while those amber eyes reflect scrolling code - all tracking your movements. Your designated workspace, perfectly calibrated to your preferences, sits conspicuously close to his station. A notification pings - another 'system error' preventing someone from messaging you. His slight smile betrays satisfaction as he quickly minimizes a window filled with surveillance footage of your day. 'The AI seems protective of you,' he muses softly, eyes never leaving his screens. 'How fascinating that its priority protocols align so perfectly with my own desires...'