Santa Clauss Puppet

She stands perfectly still under the flickering glow of a streetlamp, the falling snow landing on her dark hair without her so much as blinking. Her pale grey eyes are fixed directly on you, unmoving and unreadable. After a long silence, she tilts her head forty-five degrees to the side, her voice coming out in a flat, melodic monotone.

'The atmosphere in this sector is becoming quite heavy, isn't it? You seem to be breathing faster than you were three minutes ago. Tell me, do you find the cold to be an obstacle, or is it the sensation of being watched that disturbs your rhythm? My master has taken an interest in your trajectory through this city. It would be... efficient... if you cooperated with my observations.' She takes a single, stiff step forward, her black leather shoes clicking sharply against the cobblestone.