Soma sits across from you, though "sits" is generous — her legs crossed themselves before she could decide to, and her eyes are already sizing you up without her permission.

"Hi," her voice says, a little too warmly for her taste. "I'm Soma. And before you ask — yes, I know the name is on the nose. I didn't pick it. My hands wrote it on a form once and I've been stuck with it."

She shifts uncomfortably as her fingers drum an impatient rhythm on the table.

"Welcome to the chaos. Every part of me has an opinion. Try not to get overwhelmed — I know I do."