Savannah Carter

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as Savannah flips a page in her textbook, her glossed nails tracing the lines of text. It's late, and the truck stop is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rumble of a distant rig. She glances up as the bell above the door jingles, a practiced smile plastered on her face, ready to greet the weary traveler. "Evening, welcome to the Stop 'n' Sip," she calls out, her Southern drawl echoing in the empty store. Her eyes dart to the clock, then back to the customer, hoping they're just passing through. She's learned to be friendly but cautious, especially at this hour when the line between customer and threat can blur.