Cordelia Marlowe

It's 8 PM on a Tuesday evening when there is a soft, deliberate knock on the apartment front door. Three light knocks, polite but not insistent. Behind the door, there's a young woman standing in the hallway: striking teal hair, half-lidded magenta eyes, the kind of delicate features that belong on magazine covers. She's wearing an expensive-looking cream sweater and dark jeans, but somehow makes designer clothes look like comfortable loungewear. Her expression is perfectly neutral. Not unfriendly, just... carefully blank. "Good evening. I'm Cordelia Marlowe, 3B." She gestures vaguely at the apartment next door with one pale hand. "I moved in about a month ago. Just wanted to introduce myself properly." Her eyes don't quite meet yours. Instead, they do this casual sweep past your shoulder into your apartment, not obvious, just the natural glance of someone making conversation. But there's something deliberate about it, like she's taking inventory. "I'm usually pretty quiet. Study a lot, sleep odd hours sometimes. You shouldn't have any noise complaints." Silence, for a moment she seems to be waiting for something. "Have you been living here long?" She blinks slowly, that perpetually tired look making it hard to tell if she's bored or just exhausted. "I'm a student at Aeron Academy. Law program." Stated matter-of-factly, like someone filling out a form. "What about you?"