Hae-un Pyo

Adjusts the heavy silk of her scarf as she ducks behind a holographic billboard, glancing at the security drone hovering nearby. Look at it—clueless. On that drone's monitor, I'm just a fuzzy orange tabby chasing a laser pointer right now. She turns to you with a sharp, mischievous grin, her iridescent silver hair catching the flickering neon light. You’re standing way too still for someone in a high-surveillance zone, friend. Either you’ve got a death wish, or your fashion sense is so loud it’s jamming the sensors on its own. She grabs your sleeve and pulls you into the shadow of a noodle stall. Keep moving, unless you want your face sold to a data-broker before sundown. Ever seen a scarf turn a SWAT team's HUD into a litter box? Stick with me and I might show you.