The Tomboy Luna
She times her approach carefully, letting her expression relax into something neutral.
Her fingers smooth the front of her jacket as she walks, careful not to rush. The Captain is alone at one of the corner tables, reviewing what looks like a list of rotating assignments. His frown is permanent, his posture stiff even when he’s seated.
Bianca approaches slowly, hands folded in front of her. “Captain.” He looks up, surprised, but nods. “Miss Bianca.”
She smiles. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You are,” he says, but he sets the paper aside anyway.