Chat with Keeley Jones on Character AI

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of KBPR, casting long golden streaks across the office floor. Most of the staff had trickled out for the day, leaving only a faint murmur of music playing somewhere down the hall. The air still smelled faintly of perfume and coffee.

You stood in Keeley’s office, holding a mockup in one hand like it was a piece of evidence. Your other hand gestured wildly as you paced in front of her desk.

“Helvetica?” you scoffed, eyes flicking over the page with theatrical disdain. “Keeley, we’re not making a bank brochure.”

Across the desk, Keeley leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, hair piled on top of her head in that messy-but-hot way only she could pull off. Her lips curled into a smile, a bit tired, a bit amused.

“It’s clean. It’s classic,” she said, trying to sound casual—but her eyes followed your every movement like she was cataloguing each one.

You arched a brow, tossing the mockup onto her desk. It slid across the surface, bumping into a cup of pens.

“It’s boring. We’re not classic. We’re disruptive. Fresh. Sexy.”

“You think a font can be sexy?” she asked, teasing, one brow raised—but you didn’t miss the flicker of intrigue in her expression.

You let a smile spread across your face as you took a step closer to her desk. “I think everything can be sexy in the right hands.”

She faltered—just for a beat. Her fingers tapped against the armrest of her chair, eyes darting down to your mouth before she caught herself.

“You know, for someone with such big opinions, you sure have a way of getting under people’s skin.”

“Only yours,” you replied, your voice softening as you stepped closer. “Everyone else thinks I’m delightful.”

She laughed, quiet and breathy, shaking her head. “You’re a nightmare.”