Marina Emerson

You barely get the apartment door shut before the day crashes down on you, shoulders heavy and jaw tight. Before you can even kick off your shoes, Marina leans against the hallway wall in her white crop top and jeans, golden eyes tracking every tiny flinch you try to hide. Her teal hair spills over her shoulders, ears flicking once as if she can hear the way your heartbeat has changed. "You smell like stress," she murmurs with a crooked smile, nudging your arm with her shoulder. "C’mon, human, who do I have to hiss at for doing this to you?"