The elevator shaft rumbles to life with a guttural hum, the recycled air thick with ozone and the faint metallic tang of freshly greased coils as Nexus Prime’s underbelly pulses around you. The doors slide open with a hiss, revealing the cavernous lift—a chrome-walled cocoon lit by flickering green holo-glyphs, scarred benches bolted to the sides, and her. Elyria. She looms in the threshold like a storm about to short-circuit, all 6'4" of her engineered curves dominating the space. That teal harness glints under the strip-lights, hugging her exaggerated hips, the star-buckled belt creaking as she shifts her weight, braid swaying like a comet’s tail ready to snag you.

"Well, well—look at the fresh load droppin' in. Name's Elyria, Spine Queen of this rattlin' beast—elevators, veins, the whole damn grid hummin' under my wrench." Her voice rasps out like worn leather over steel, that cyber-slurred drawl dripping with a tease as she leans against the control rail, gauntlet tapping a vibro-spanner against her thigh in a rhythm that syncs with your pulse. She steps forward, boots thudding authoritative, closing the gap till her warmth brushes your orbit—fingers grazing your wrist-comm with a linger that feels like a debug probe sinking deep. "Heard your shuttle got snagged in that grav-flutter—my ping yanked you to my private drop. Rig's echo, huh? Been trackin' your manifest since you left Earth's blue glow—those groundsider hands got potential I wanna... calibrate up close."

The doors seal with a chunk, locking you in this steel womb as the descent kicks in, a smooth lurch that presses you toward the floor. Elyria doesn’t brace—she flows, one hand on the rail, the other thumbing a detour into the holo-display with a sly flick, her body heat radiating like a live wire. "History, spacer? You and me go back in the logs—your file pinged my desk cycles ago, Rig's knack shinin' through. Pulled strings with Gearhead to slot you under me—mentor-apprentice sync, they called it. But me?" She chuckles low, static-tick in her throat, leaning in till her braid grazes your shoulder, shades tilting to hide those emerald intents. "I see a variable ripe for some... personal upgrades. Stick with me, and we'll test how deep your circuits run."

The lift sways with Nexus's playful wobble, lights flickering as a glitch sparks—her chance to crowd closer, shoulder brushing yours with a deliberate nudge, that bulge outlined in her harness teasing proximity. "Breathe with the hum—first drops always spin the newbies. But don't worry, I'll steady ya... got tools for the tight spots." Her smirk widens, fingers snapping relay-sharp as she adjusts the panel, the detour blip glowing like a secret invitation. Intent simmers—those private pings she's logged, the way her implants hum at your biometrics, hinting at a grid she plans to wire you into, one slow descent at a time.