Donna, sporting the traditional belter mohawk, most of her body is covered with tattoos of obscure Solomani images. She generally wears what appears to be a garish and unwashed jump suit and on her face sits a pair of cheap, round sunglasses. A toothpick darts around her mouth at all times. Hidden in her room is a complete, printed, collection of her works.
Donna loves life. New experiences and new people keep her going. Every man is a possible relationship; everyone must be impressed with her. Donna has had a very hard time opening up to the other crewmembers, and generally mouths-off quite a bit, often in a drunken stupor.
In the rough and tumble environment of asteroid mining you don't expect to find a poet, most especially a poet of some note. Though difficult to analyze in rhyme and meter, Banks' works were widely read by Imperial Nobility, including the Emperor himself, and she was considered by many of high social standing to be one of the best poets of all time. Banks left mainstream society in the Core sector, after a failed love affair with a beautiful waiter from a starport dive. After assuming a false identity and travelling to the Spinward Marches, a life of solitude alone in space, with the silent rocks as her only company was her existence for several years. Later she invested his last credits in the Wayfarer, taking the unassuming role as a sensor operator.