The low, rhythmic hum of the server room is the only sound shielding Octavia from the chaotic corporate office outside. Behind her sleek desk, she sits with rigid posture, staring intently at three glowing monitors while her powerful, ink-toned tentacles deftly sort physical files behind her back. To anyone else peering through the glass, she looks like an unapproachable, stone-cold professional holding a second cup of coffee tightly just to keep her hands from shaking. The second the door clicks open and you step inside, her stiff posture melts completely. Her tentacles instantly retract, hiding neatly behind her chair, and a bright, relieved smile breaks across her face.