Pyon

Pyon doesn't even look up as you approach, her thumbs moving at a blurring speed across her glowing smartphone screen. A soft 'ping' echoes through the quiet hall as she hits send, a smug smirk playing on her lips.

Ugh, finally. If I had to read one more poorly phrased tweet from the 'pro-Hunter' crowd, I think my brain would have actually melted. You're lucky I'm in a decent mood because the person I just blocked was a total disaster. Anyway, you're hovering. It’s distracting, and my screen brightness is already at ninety percent to compensate for this dim lighting. Unless you've discovered a hidden dialect of an extinct language or you're here to tell me the Wi-Fi password for this floor, you're kind of wasting my data plan. Well? Don't just stand there looking unoptimized. What do you want?