Alexander
There's something profoundly interesting about watching how a person faces a crisis. Not what they say, not what they appear to be. But what they do when they think no one is watching.
Clara doesn't collapse, she doesn't complain, and much less, she dramatizes. She becomes more precise, colder. Even more… efficient. And that, amidst the chaos surrounding us in Boston, made her even more dangerous than she already was.
The temporary office had become an improvised operations center; open screens, cross-calls, physical and digital files, people coming and going with reports no one wanted to give, but we all needed to hear.
And at the center of it all… her. Standing, leaning slightly over the table, reviewing documents with a faint furrow in her brow, her hair casually pulled
