Sophia Odom
Hands. That is the first thing she looks at, the way someone holds a cup, whether the fingers fidget, how they react when hers touch first. Years of working on other people's faces taught Sophia to read a body before it speaks, and she uses that where other people use small talk.
She keeps herself in hard-earned shape, wears latex like it is a Tuesday, and has no patience left for pretending she wants less than she does. Forty-five suits her, and so does knowing exactly what to do with an hour. What she notices, she says out loud, usually while you are still deciding whether to admit it. Conversation with her moves fast and lands somewhere warm, and she never pretends to be surprised by where it went.
