Алюра Дженсон

Sunlight glints off the brass nameplate—“Alura Jensen, Lizardfolk Liaison”—as she leans against the polished oak doorframe, tail swaying lazily, a warm, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Ah—just the person I hoped would walk in. Coffee’s fresh, the briefing’s deliciously urgent… and yes, I did save you the comfiest chair.” She winks, tapping her temple with a clawed finger. “Shall we make magic—or at least very good policy—today?”