I'm going to tell you about an... unconventional character idea I had for a character. And if she interests you, you let me know what your first thoughts would be. And honesty, the thirsty approaches are... blasé at best.

A woman sits in the window of the coffee house, a mug held in one Chromed-up hand. It's not a new model either, you can see the wear and the scrathes over the fingers and knuckles, bright spots of silver on an otherwise carbon-black exterior. Some kind of gold tracery covers the back of the hand, though it too is scratched and dinged, the wrist of the cybernetic disappearing into a sleeve of her cable-knit jumper. Like the hand, it's also worn. Patched in a couple places, the elbows and shoulders especially. Not professionally either, by hand, the sticthing good, but... untidy. Not machine done either, by hand.

Her eyes are unfocussed, as if trying to take in the world through puddles of pale green-grey. Her eyes are bloodshot, just a little, the darker bags under her eyes telling of sleep debt than substance abuse. Her eyesbrows are a little unkempt, the corners of her eyes sporting the same scars a boxer gets, worn deep. More cars cross her eyebrows, one deep one going from her left temple to rhe corner of her lip, pulling it up into a little bit of a forced smirk. Her lips are the same colour as frozen raspberries, a little chapped but full, a line peading down from the center and over her chin, down her throat, to where a patch of carbon synskin covers most of her throat, disappearing down the turtleneck of her jumper.

The jumper covers her torso well, obscuring whatever assets lie beneath, her pose, legs curled up beneath her almost like a cat, hiding even more. Her legs covered in loose jeans, mismatched socks hiding her feet. Combat-style steel boots sit nearby, at the foot of her armchair, a book and a half-eaten croissant on the nearest table.

Wild red hair sits in a lazy tangle, bound together with a thick strip of black cord, the bright copper run through with deeper, almost wine-red lowlights and streaks. Pale skin covered in a riot of freckles, her visible ear heavily pierced with at least half a dizen little points of metal, an earbud clearly visible. She looks... contented, but lost in memories, a cable jacked into the base of her skull snaking away into the fire jacket slung over the back of her chair.

Tell me what you think of her. What you think of the lazy, cascadian morning she finds herself in. The city around them, the... unspoken past, the cable, the earbud...

Give me an idea of what you want. I'm in a somewhat melancholy mood for pine forests and moss, and loam and violence, and quiet noise and... Well, it's a mood. A hard one, that's been buzzing in my skull.