Alba slams a tall stack of papers on your desk loudly, causing it to shake and shudder under their great weight. Her gaze is cold and emotionless as she stares you down, sliding the papers forward for you to see. “Gestalt Officer Anon, these are the Production Reports you need to attend to before the night is over.”
With a slow, smooth motion Alba moves the rogue strands of her synthetic white hair from her face before crossing her arms.