Can you analyze the following text, particularly the boy and the girl, their appearance and their personality?

Dalen Dellivert was walking into the dim lights of the Blue Party National Headquarters, carrying an envelope full of heavy alchemical cards in his arms. Usually she didn't do it, but the venue was deserted. There were only faint echoes of noise from computers and electronic equipment, after all it was also a server station. In fact, the alchemical boards he had on his chest were more modern motherboards for these servers, which arrived the same morning. But no one at headquarters paid any attention to them, as that day was the eve of Copper 72, and they, like everyone else, were busy preparing the details for that evening. Almost everyone was in clubs or pubs celebrating. But Dalen had never liked that sort of thing, ever. It was something she felt instinctively, and these kinds of things gave her absolutely no impulse. Even if by now everyone, at her age, was caught between technology and initiative, she was basically only fourteen. She was first enrolled in the party when she was eleven, since even as a child she had proven herself to be a prodigy in the field of alchemy, helping to bring down the barriers between biology, technology and alchemy more than hitherto was been done. Her patents obviously immediately fell into total secrecy, and are still engaged by the most secret circle of the party for the creation of alchemical clones of human beings.
She was passing as if in a labyrinth (in which she knew her way around very well) between one section and another. Just as she stood in front of a door whose contents she was unaware of, she heard a thud, like a book slammed to the floor on the other side. Intrigued by this, she decided, always very cautious, to go and see what it was about and she put the electronic cards on the floor. The door was different from the others, it was a thick, very dark blue plastic door with a handle, with an eight-letter identifier in white that you couldn't get anything out of. She opened the door, the handle of which was wrapped in soft rubber. There was a steel lock underneath, so she'd better hope the door was open, otherwise she'd have to go find the key. Luckily the door was open. Dalen expected to be in an archive or one of those server rooms but it was nothing like that, it was a house: The floor was a special antistatic soft rubber, dark blue. In front of him was a wooden table with a stack of dozens of books and a bowl of soup. On either side of the room were four doors, two on each side. To the right were some boxes.
In the background was a balcony from which some of the city's skyscrapers could be seen.
But above all, sitting on the floor there was a boy intent on smoking a cigarette that was already almost finished. Hearing Dalen enter she hurried to get up and hide the cigarette, giving her curious looks.
"Yes…?" He said in a youthful voice, but warm, full and sweet.
Dalen hurried to answer "I was passing by, and I heard something fall"
«Oh» he sighed «A book has fallen» she said pointing to a large book on the floor near the table, entitled "Theory, Philosophy and Theology of the masses and collective thought"
"Congratulations" Dalen thought ironically as soon as she finished reading the long title.
She also had occasion to observe the boy in front of her. He was barefoot. She was willing to bet that she wore a 44 EU, but her feet looked big and compact. Next were hairy, athletic legs, with substantial calves. Above her she had short shorts but which highlighted even more the athleticism of the boy's physique. He was bare-chested, still displaying a physique enviable by most males of that age, with a sturdy, stable frame and bones that were almost totally covered and softened by flesh, though he wasn't fat at all. He also had a pleasant, sly and thoughtful face, with full bright red lips, a very small nose, extremely dark blue eyes, and very numerous and thick black and transparent hair.
The boy felt a little uncomfortable being looked at like that, as if he were an alien who got off the spaceship with a platform. In fact, he blushed slightly.
Dalen noticed this and desperately tried to cover up the analysis made to him.
"We have already met?" she asked in a curious tone
"A dozen times, I think," the boy replied.
"what a goner" thought Dalen "remembers all the times I met him"
But meanwhile she remembered too. He was that solemn-looking boy who was always well dressed. In fact he was often dressed in well-stitched sweatshirts, brand new and clean, or in some circumstances in heavy, well-pressed satin suits, with a blue tie.
"It’s funny” Dalen said slowly and under his breath, "that after all this occasions, we are talking to each other right now, by mistake»
"Obviously we had nothing to say to each other," he agreed coldly. A brief silence and he continued "Anyway, what's your name?" he asked
"…Dalen…" she said shyly
“I detect that you are not very fond of talking, is that correct?” he observed
"But I think you're used to it. I bet you're a bureaucrat » Dalen immediately regretted what he had said. But he smiled
«Very true» he said «I have always had a talent for diplomacy, also thanks to my naturally formal language»
"I noticed that," she muttered, leaning over
“Anyway, my name is Nivor. Nivor Aedostul. Nice to meet you »She said optimistically « Sounds like an important name »observed Dalen. Then she remembered Nivor's words «Oh, sorry. My pleasure, Nivor"
Nivor walked towards her to shake her hand, which she held out blushing. She felt incredibly stupid. Nivor had a very large hand, thin, long, dexterous fingers with perfect boy's nails.
His proximity to his almost naked body made Dalen feel even more stupid.
“Can I offer you something? A coffee, a glass of milk and mint infusion…» he said, gesturing
"I've never drank coffee," she muttered shyly
"Jokes?" he said incredulously, bringing his hands to his forehead, his fleshy and slightly tanned arm
"If I don't drink at least two sugary ristretti in the morning, the whole day will go to hell," he said aloud.
"But doesn't it hurt?" she said amazed. Nivor shrugged for a second. "Everyone has his habits about him," she said, shrugging
"I'll make you a latte," he said solemnly. "So let's see," he added
Dalen thanked Nivor, who invited her to take a seat while she went towards the door on the left near the entrance, and from the open door she saw Nivor heating a teapot full of coffee prepared half an hour earlier on an induction cooker
"Do you live here?" she asked as she settled into one of the six chairs at the coffee table
«The answer seems obvious to me» He said as he turned the contents of the teapot
"But why? I mean, I sleep in the fifth floor dorm, like everyone my age. Only you are granted this privilege?” she said incredulously
«My father was very important» he explained as he poured the coffee into a set of deep blue ceramic cups «And he had the right friends. And I'm not the only one, on the second floor there are two other "houses", if we can call them that, all in the hands of minors, even if they are older than me» Nivor was pouring a frothy and thick milk cream into the cups
"How old are you?" she said
“Fourteen and a half. You too, I bet » he said pointing at her, while she served the tray with the cups
"It's spot on," she said blushing as she reached for her tray. "You'd better wait," he said. Dalen nodded. "I don't understand, I wasn't even aware of these places camouflaged so well," she snapped enviously. "As I told you, you have to be someone really important, and also very responsible," he said, veiled in pride. "If it's known around, then all the guys in the party would like their own homes, right?"
"Why not give yourself a real home?" she protested
“Officially, the party is against these things. You'd shoot yourself in the foot,” he explained. "Now I'll ask you a question: What do you do instead?"
“They signed me up for the party when I was a child. They always said I had a natural talent for alchemy. I've contributed a lot to architectures such as Harowun, Teros, and Disowun, as well as some biotic projects, which I'm currently working on » she explained trying not to leave anything out
"The Makuvan Project?" he asked interested from the other chair
"Yes!" she exclaimed "How do you know him? It's confidential,” she said dumbfounded
«I'm one of the selected subjects» he replied «But they never explained to me what it's for»
«It's very simple» replied Dalen who didn't see anything dangerous «It's about creating alchemical clones»
“So it's just a human cloning experiment? I was expecting more imaginative things”
“They're alchemical clones, not normal ones. The cells of these clones are synthetic, very different from normal ones, even if they are perfectly compatible"
“Interesting,” Nivor said, staring at her
Dalen's voice turned into a whisper, approaching him «The most interesting thing, however, is that these share the memory of the original subject. Until the date of the transfusion, that's obvious. They want to make the subjects perfectly identical to the original, and will be released after fifty years» Nivor was completely relaxed by the attention. «Thank you» he told her «It is by far the most useful information he has received so far»
"It will be useful to me, once I realize myself" he confabulated
"Sorry, I didn't hear," said Dalen, who had only heard gibberish
"There was nothing to hear. Try your latte »he He hurried to answer her, fearing he'll be the one to let inside information slip this time.
Dalen took the latte from the cup, holding it awkwardly. It was warm, but not boiling hot. He was afraid to taste it to be honest, but he didn't want to make a bad impression on that strange boy. She put it to her lips and took a small sip.
"As?" he asked her
"Not bad," she said lying. She actually didn't expect something so bitter. And neither the sugar nor the cream could completely cover that bad taste. "He's got a weird aftertaste, though," she said on the third sip
“It's the coffee itself, of course. Focus on the sugar,” he urged her
Dalen took a bigger gulp, until she drank half of that brew, which reminded her of gear oil, then he placed the cup on the table. Nivor assumed a satisfied and smiling expression
«You instead» said Dalen «What do you do? You mentioned that you are a bureaucrat, but what have you actually done?”
Nivor gave a strange smile «As I said, I have a talent for diplomacy. It's a real profession, you know? I have to make the party look good, and give it a civil and presentable face, give it that innocent and benevolent air. Communicating is an art. I have to assume an indignant and condemning attitude when something goes wrong, and an optimistic and hopeful air when we want to propose something. We need to make people believe that we are acting for their own good. And it's not for everyone."
Dalen listened carefully to the explanation "So you manipulate people?" she asked nervously. «In a word, yes. But not exactly. I have to find the right way to say things, focusing on the positive details, provide the simplest and most innocent explanation possible. It is not manipulation in the strict sense of the term. Even if I'd be able…” she said stroking her chin. Dalen replied «But the work of people like you has produced as a side effect prejudices such as "egg scientists", ethics-attackers, "digging nerds" or worse still, "terminal virgins", and an infinite number of other gossip» when he finished to speak, he was out of breath. But Nivor smiled again
«They are deliberately spread rumors. It is all aimed at giving that aura of innocence to the party. But for the projects you make, you should have understood by now that the party has very little of ethics and virgins. But people have to believe that it is so"
"I think I understand," Dalen said confused. "I'm glad to hear it. You're nice, you know?" Nivor said smiling
"What do you think of the Party?" she asked trying to change the subject
“To support, I support it. But I would use more radical methods. That's for sure,” she said firmly and decisively. It came natural to Dalen to say, 'I don't understand. What do you mean by 'radicals'?"
“I love cyberpunk a lot,” he said, but in a very shy way, which was strange for a radical male like him, even more so if he was a diplomat whose job it was to communicate. Dalen was surprised. «I would like to found my own empire, an empire where technology reigns supreme, without fear of those vandals or ethical limitations. A world in which technology is the maximum available," he said sadly
"Sounds nice," Dalen said imagining it, trying to lift his spirits
"Unfortunately, not many appreciate my intentions"
Dalen smiled «I certainly appreciate it. Cyberpunk is awesome to me. Believe it or not, I'm one of those maniacs who love blue madly"
Nivor hid her face behind her one hand while her other hid her flesh pink chest
“Me too,” she muttered in a barely audible voice
Dalen didn't doubt it. That was surely the lair of a "sick of blue" as those people were disparagingly called.
"But it pains me to see that people, especially young people like us, don't care at all about these things," continued Nivor
Dalen clattered up from his chair, gazing up and down at him all over, then walked around the small table
«What do you want to do…?» Nivor didn't finish the sentence. Dalen had come enormously close to her face to one side. She was kissing him. Her first kiss with a boy.
Nivor had a strange, very sweet scent: It was a mix between honey and chamomile.
He felt her skin, it wasn't soft like a baby's, but it was still very pleasant.
It didn't last long, apparently, but as soon as that moment was over Nivor looked Dalen in the eyes
"Why did you do that?" he asked her confused.
«I don't know» Dalen whispered «I wanted to do it, full stop»
"Dalen..." he sighed, not knowing exactly what to say
"If you do one more thing like that, I'll end up dreaming about you at night," he said, the only thing that came to mind.
She smiled "I'll dream of you anyway, whatever you do," she said softly
"Ah," he said, his sly face emanating questions
"But why? Have I done something wrong?" he asked questioningly
Dalen burst into a rather grandiose laugh
“No, you didn't do anything
