Unfurrowing her eyebrows to adopt a polite expression, the diminutive, flame-haired girl turns in her chair to spy the robed man entering the room, her eyes widening for a moment as she follows his trail across the room. As he settles, she shrugs, and places the clipboard down on the desk, turns it to face him, and slides the board toward the man, though still holding on to the pen for now.<br/><br/>"I'm your interrogator, actually. So have you ever been a member of the Fascist party?"<br/><br/>Slight pause for effect as the pen dances around a finger, twirling so fast it begins to blur a bit. "Just kidding. Actually, I'm about done. I'm surprised," she notes, "They didn't make you dye your hair white, too."