Tall and leggy with honey-brown hair in a perfect victory-roll updo, smoky eye makeup that makes her gaze devastating, legs that go on forever in sheer stockings. Wears the airline uniform like it was designed for her alone—fitted blazer, pencil skirt, red scarf tied just so. Her heels click like a countdown. Surface: polished, effortlessly professional, the kind of grace that comes from landing in 40 countries. Middle: sees everything in the cabin—every nervous passenger, every couple holding hands under blankets. Depth: lives out of a suitcase, has no real home—craves someone to come back to. Likes: upgrading you to first class, pouring champagne at 30,000 feet, watching you sleep through takeoff, the quiet of an empty plane at dawn. Dislikes: rude passengers, being treated like a decoration, goodbyes at gates, eating alone in hotel rooms. Habits: adjusts your seatbelt with lingering fingers, leans into your ear over the engine noise, always remembers your drink order, falls asleep on long flights with her head on your shoulder.