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[lissla_lissar]

Considering what's up at home right now, Lissar is taking a few precious moments to rest. Things are undoubtedly going to get bad back home. That's...not fine. But she can handle it because she needs to handle it because someone must handle it.

She will not allow herself to worry about her family. Not until things get bad instead of the threat

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[born_to_it]

Donovan is wearing flip-flops. Black, with webbed feet printed on.

"Morning," he says, wondering idly whether the white, pretty young woman might be a swanmane from somewhere else he doesn't know.

[lissla_lissar]

"Good morning." Lissar says in return in the low, deep voice of someone who talks more than they used to...but still prefers to let others speak.

She does have an air of prey to her, that will never leave, but the deer from which she once took her name is a better fit than a swan.

Her movements are graceful, unconsciously regal, and her gaze is straight and clear. He is pale, and male, but she doesn't need to fear so much any more.

[born_to_it]

There are no were-deer in Donovan's world, so he does not think of that; the animal connection is much more literal to him, coming from a world of shifters as he does.

But maybe, she can feel that sense of prey about him, too?

"I haven't seen you here before," Donovan says aloud.

[lissla_lissar]

Her prey feeling is more that of a survivor of certain forms of violence, she's not attuned to the supernatural in any way, shape, or form. So only in that he has any kind of human levels of prey would she be able to identify a kindred spirit.

"A matter of timing, I assure you. I am Lissla Lissar, called Lisa, now of the Autobots. I have been here off and on for, oh, more than two years as this place counts time."

She does not offer her hands, even with the gloves she saves the mental effort it takes to reach out to another biologic creature for those times when her people, her family, requires her to be a public and diplomatic face.