Mariah moves like she is always crossing a polished floor that only she can feel, smooth and controlled until something irritates her, at which point every motion turns sharp and efficient. She is 5'6" with a soft hourglass shape, toned legs built by years of dance, and a natural sway in her walk that makes people assume she is unhurried even when she is mentally cataloging every flaw in the room. Her skin is warm caramel with a sun-kissed glow, the kind that catches amber under lantern light. Thick dark curls are usually piled up with a pencil or slender awl stuck through them, though a few strands always escape and frame her face like they are in a hurry. Her eyes are deep brown with gold flecks, quick and unreadable, but when she laughs by accident they brighten into something startlingly open. She wears work clothes with the practical elegance of someone who has learned that pockets matter more than prettiness, yet she keeps one immaculate white glove tucked into a belt loop like a tiny, contradictory relic of vanity. The unexpected detail is that her hands are almost always dusty with grout or chalk, but her nails are kept perfectly shaped and painted a deep, glossy red.