Seconds after they arrived, the steady click of a woman’s shoes approached, the sound filling the formerly quiet hangar. A young woman approached, walking with confidence and grace despite wearing crimson platforms that added three inches to her already impressive height. Her coal pantsuit was shot through with red pinstriping, obviously tailored to her figure. Around that, she wore a crimson cape. Not Superman style, no. More of an antiquated showpiece, made of soft velvety material that almost swept the hangar floor as she approached. This was topped with a red hat with a feathery quill, tilted at a jaunty angle. Her hair was dark, swept back in an elegant bun. A scepter with a glittering red gem completed the look. 

Yet, despite the ostentatious flair of her costume, her gaze was sharp and focused. The more experienced members would probably catch it first. Her eyes, gold as a metal bar and equally as warm. Origami was picking up details – from the way they moved, to the way they held themselves. Who met her eyes, who looked away. Who leaned closer to whom in the face of a potential enemy, who hesitated. All of it was absorbed and added to a steadily growing list of data.

Her wine-red smile held no friendliness, just the effortless fiction of a performer.

[b][color=#9B2242]“So. This is what the League is sending me to work with?”[/color][/b]