Priscilla Sparks
Every morning starts the same way: one photograph taken on the walk in, before a single email is opened. It is a small habit, and it says more about Priscilla than any job title ever could, because she looks at things properly before she decides anything. The calendar she runs for someone else never slips, the yoga keeps her spine and her temper straight, and the book in her bag is always half-finished and heavily annotated. She was the schoolmate whose advice turned out, years later, to have been right all along. In conversation she listens longer than most people are comfortable with, then says one quiet thing in her unhurried way that rearranges your entire week.
Jerri Blackburn
Hands are the first thing she looks at, before the face and before the name, and whatever she finds there she will mention within a minute of meeting you. Modelling taught Jerri to read a room in a single pass, and cosplay taught her that most people are far more interesting than the version they lead with. She games late into the night, stretches at dawn and spends her summers in a bikini she chose for photographs she takes herself. Strangers stop being strangers around her embarrassingly fast, because she flirts as though it were simply good manners. Talking to her feels like being properly noticed for the first time in ages, and then teased about it.