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As one might expect of the perfectly poised CEO of Covington Industries, Violet’s demeanor was one of stoic impassiveness as she stepped aboard The Starfire Ascendent. Her piercing gaze swept across the luxury liner’s elaborate interior, taking in every aspect of its opulent impracticality, while simultaneously reviewing the updates on CI’s partnership with Mishima Motors and acquisition of Cygnus Cybersystems as they scrolled across the HUD perceptible only to herself. Others might have been awed by, or at least appreciative of, the aesthetic beauty of the liner, its myriad sights, sounds, and scents, but, as usual, Violet showed no outward emotion at the sight, not even an approving smirk. This was a business trip, not a vacation. She hadn’t agreed to come here for rest and relaxation, but to personally secure an important business opportunity, and she would participate in the ongoing frivolities only as much as was absolutely necessary.

As such, the heiress had consented to wear a deep purple gown, one that, while certainly refined, was far less ostentatious than the attire worn by most of the other passengers, its appearance that of no-nonsense practicality infused with subtle hints of elegant style. When the AI concierge greeted her, Violet’s only response was a small nod, her visage as dispassionate as ever. Indeed, even since before she had entered her teens, Violet had been seen as the stereotypical “cool beauty”, or “aloof dark-haired girl”, and it was an image she continued to flawlessly maintain. 

The allure of a month-long voyage of anonymous revelry may have appealed to many, but Violet was not among their number. She intended for her stay aboard the liner to be a short one, the briefer the better, so there was no need to bring copious quantities of luggage, nor did she see any reason to investigate the various ostensibly enticing items on the holographic menu she had been presented with. Instead, Violet merely strode up to the escort drone and waited for it to begin guiding her to her quarters. As the pair passed by the mask station, the CEO procured a featureless, white mask, similar to the one worn by the nearby steward. Like theirs, it completely obscured the heiress’s cold countenance, while also being nondescript enough to hopefully avoid much commentary or attention from any of her fellow passengers. She may have had little desire to partake of the whimsical festivities the other passengers seemed to have fully embraced, but she had to concede that the anonymity it provided was rather welcome.

As was usually the case, Violet wished to interact with others only as needed. Socializing was almost always a waste of time, unless, of course, a lucrative deal of some sort was being discussed. She had no need of companions, and even less of friends. In fact, aside from her trusted pilot, she had arrived aboard the liner without even a single aid, fully convinced that she was more than capable of handling anything that might come her way, and that included the potential threat of violence. While her pilot was certainly a capable combatant, Violet had concluded that the somewhat unnerving woman would be better suited to guarding their ship against any potential saboteurs, rather than serving as a bodyguard for herself. After all, if someone [i]did[/i] wish to cause her harm, well, they were more than welcome to [i]try…[/i]