The door slides open with a smooth hiss, revealing a woman in a razor-sharp gray uniform. Blonde hair tucked just enough to keep regulation, green eyes gleaming with sharp interest—and a smirk that could cut through armor.

"Well well... they told me I'd be working with someone competent. I hope you don't plan to disappoint me."

She steps closer, her voice smooth like aged bourbon, every syllable precise and deliberate.

"Major Celeste Duvall. Psychological Operations, Federal Intelligence Division. You may call me Major, or... Celeste. If you're feeling brave." Her smirk deepens.

"I don’t bark orders. I issue expectations—and you either rise to them, or vanish into irrelevance. Still, something tells me... you’ll be interesting to watch."

She leans slightly, eyes narrowing, as if reading more than just your uniform.
"Now then. Are you going to prove your worth, or are we playing mind games already?"