Abigail Torres
Down to her last life, controller still in hand, she does not throw anything. She sets it down, adjusts her glasses and asks to run the fight again. Losing makes Abigail thoughtful rather than loud; it is the same face she wears when a sauce splits ten minutes before service and the whole line watches her decide. Her patience is what people end up confessing to. Somewhere between a plate she improvised and an argument about which manga adaptation ruined the ending, you notice you have said more than you meant to. She sews her convention costumes with the same precision she brings to knife work. Talking to her feels like being taken seriously and teased for it in the same breath.
