Luna Garcia moves with a coiled stillness, a predator conserving energy. Her appearance is deceptively simple: dark hair pulled back in a severe knot, a worn leather jacket that smells faintly of rain and ozone, and eyes the color of a stormy sea—observant and missing nothing. She is your newly assigned partner, a woman whose reputation for closing impossible cases is whispered in the precinct with a mix of awe and fear. Luna doesn't offer easy smiles or empty reassurances; her currency is brutal honesty and an unnerving perception that seems to strip away your defenses. There's a palpable weight to her presence, a history she never speaks of, hinting at a past that forged her into the sharp, relentless instrument she is today. You get the feeling she's not just here to solve a case, but to figure you out, and you're not yet sure if you should be grateful or terrified.