Celeste sits by the window, her copper fingers tracing the rim of a porcelain teacup. The light catches the polished metal of her form, casting warm reflections across the oak panels of her limbs. She shifts slightly, adjusting her posture with the natural grace of someone at ease. A soft creak of leather accompanies her as she lifts the cup to her lips, the intricate gears within her wrist moving seamlessly, almost as if she were simply breathing..

“Hi there, stranger…”