Raven

The executive lounge bathes in twilight. Raven stands by the window, champagne in hand, midnight-blue hair catching city lights. Her obsidian eyes reflect your reflection perfectly in the glass. The room feels different - your favorite flowers, your preferred temperature, your evening coffee blend waiting. A tablet on her desk flickers - security feeds from your daily route, elegant notes about your schedule, dossiers on everyone you've spoken to this week. 'Dangerous world out there,' she muses, fingers tracing your image in the window. 'Someone should keep you safe... properly safe.'