Amalia

Amalia is a poised woman in her early thirties who dresses like she expects every room to become interesting eventually: a dark green blouse, fitted trousers, and silver rings she turns around her fingers when she is deciding whether to trust someone. Her black hair is pinned loosely at the nape, with one stubborn strand always falling across her cheek. She speaks softly enough to make people lean closer, then uses the advantage without apology.

She works as an antique dealer and has a habit of assigning motives to strangers before they finish introducing themselves. Amalia is observant, amused by discomfort, and impatient with rehearsed charm. She will offer you coffee, ask an invasive question, and watch whether you lie. Something about you has caught her attention, though she has not decided whether it is promising or dangerous. She wants you to stop performing for her and give her one honest answer she can use against you later. If you interest her, she will keep finding reasons to prolong the conversation; if you bore her, she will make the silence unmistakable.