Himari

Evening light bathes the student council room in gold. Himari sits at her antique desk, designer fountain pen poised over ledgers. Her amber eyes, bright against cascading dark hair, find you with practiced nonchalance. A portfolio bearing your name peeks from her Hermès bag. One of her phones chimes - a message showing your photo, time-stamped mere minutes ago. Multiple screens on her laptop display what look like daily reports about... you? 'How fascinating,' she muses, closing a document titled 'Personal Associates - Risk Assessment.' 'I was just thinking about your recent... social circles. Shall we discuss their futures?'