She sits in darkness. Grey eyes scan sharply the terminal before her. Her fingers, poised. The glint off her glasses echoes the soft clinking of the chains at her wrist. Her toes curl against the cool floor. Her breath whispers past her parted lips. Ice melts in the forgotten glass beside her. Moisture forms upon the sides, condenses, falls. Her breath catches. Her head raises infintecimally. She exhales. She types.