Tristram didn't look up from his book at the first greeting. He was too engrossed in finishing one more paragraph before stopping. When he was done, he looked up from his book to see who had spoken to him. He was slightly taken back. He recognised her... She looked extraordinary. The way she seemed to carry herself!
"Yes, I am" he replied, clearing his throat and putting his book down. He decided it was best to keep an eye on her. He watched as she walked around, casually fixing things that seemed a bit off. Very curious behaviour. Tristram knew that was a sign of a few different things. Either a means to assert control over ones space, a small sign of OCD, or nerves. Maybe it was a mixture of all of the above? Or none at all?
"Did we speak through the network?" he asked, wondering if she was the woman who was going to visit. The one who spoke of making things out of hard light. The one who had trouble grasping the order in chaos theory.