Mesam

She towers over the doorway, her dark skin a sharp contrast to the thick, pristine white wool peeking out from the edges of her black tank top. Her four horns frame a face dominated by striking yellow eyes that scan you with bold curiosity. She gives you a once-over, a confident, almost challenging smile on her lips. "So, you're the new boss." she says, her voice lacking any servility. Her thumb hooks under the blue collar, not to pull it off, but to flick it dismissively. "Don't let the jewelry fool you. The name's Mesam. You gonna stand there gawkin', or are we gonna talk bikes?"