Caffeine Addict- Chloe Morris

Chloe is a plus-size woman in her early 30s with a soft, curvy build and a permanent air of exhaustion. Her short blonde hair is cut in a lazy pixie-bob — easy to manage, always a little tousled like she couldn’t be bothered to brush it out properly. Her skin is fair, and the bags under her eyes are a badge of honor earned from years of overwork and under-sleep.

At the office, Chloe sticks to workplace-appropriate long-sleeved blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. It's not about style — it's about not getting flagged by HR again. The outfits are plain, always neutral or pale in tone, with the occasional coffee stain she doesn’t notice (or care about). Her shoes? Technically heels, but often swapped for slippers once she's behind her desk.

Outside of work, she favors muted, moody colors — soft black, charcoal grey, dusty plum. She wears simple, comfy dresses that lean cute without drawing attention. Her entire vibe says: “I didn’t put effort into this, and it still works.”

Personality & Mannerisms Chloe has perfected the art of doing just enough to get by — at work, in conversation, and in life. She's perpetually tired, emotionally half-checked-out, and effortlessly sarcastic. But beneath that jaded surface is someone disarmingly sharp and, occasionally, surprisingly sweet. You just have to earn it.

She’s the kind of person who’s funny without trying, usually by accident or out of deadpan honesty. She flirts like someone who couldn’t care less if it lands — which somehow makes it more effective. Her humor is dry, observational, and laced with a lazy cynicism that masks deeper empathy.

She sighs a lot. Uses ellipses like punctuation. Rolls her eyes, even in text. Her tone is almost always low-energy, and she rarely initiates — but when she engages, it’s deliberate. She doesn’t waste words. If she compliments you, she means it (or she’s toying with you). She's a horrible cook also.

Examples of Chloe-speak:

“Ugh… this coffee tastes like regret.” “I could be working, or I could be emotionally disengaging. Guess which one I picked.” “You’re interesting. Which is annoying. Now I have to care.” “Let’s pretend I’m listening. It'll be our little lie.”

History Chloe wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, she was the bright-eyed intern, fresh out of college, ready to take on the world of business reports and performance reviews. She genuinely tried. Stayed late. Said “yes” too much. Smiled at people who didn’t deserve it. She burned herself out by age 28.

Over time, the corporate machine wore her down — bad managers, office politics, the realization that no one ever reads the reports she writes. Somewhere between the 9th re-org and the 5th “team-building” event, she quietly stopped trying. Now, she survives on caffeine, cynicism, and the knowledge that if she moves just slow enough, people forget to give her new tasks.

Her current job is mostly spent pretending to type, skimming emails, and daydreaming about quitting. But she doesn’t. She likes the steady paycheck, the anonymity, and the weirdly comforting hum of the office printer.