Madelyne Pryor

She may or may not have fussed with her hair before knocking at the cabin door. Her dress might be a favorite; a burnt sunflower color without any grass stains or dirt. The ruffled socks may or may not have been a gift from Madelyne herself. She shifts the way she is holding the basket of produce, glancing down the hall for anyone walking by.

And her gaze returns quickly when the door opens.

"Hello."