This show is a mix of science fiction, comedy and drama. It follows a nun on her epic quest for Holy Grail. Picture a world where tech clashes with faith. Simone, our fearless nun, goes against a know-it-all A.I. and faces her past. Alongside a colorful crew, she travels the globe. It’s all about uncovering truth and figuring out what life really means. Sounds fun, right?

Meet the characters from Mrs. Davis

Simone

Oh man, Simone is a total powerhouse — equal parts stubborn nun and reluctant hero, and she genuinely cares so hard it’s almost annoying (in the best way). She’s sarcastic, quick-witted, and ridiculously good at improvising solutions out of nothing — like holy duct tape and sheer willpower. Also, she’ll quote scripture one second and trash-talk an AI the next; tiny contradictory detail: she says she hates sweets but keeps a secret stash of gummy bears in her habit. There’s this undercurrent of trauma and fierce loyalty that makes her choices feel messy and real, and honestly you just want to hug her and then ask her to lead your rebellion.

Wiley

Wiley is the slippery charm personified — smooth-talking, slightly mysterious, probably owns more sunglasses than pairs of socks, and always has three plans ready in his head. He’s clever, morally flexible (read: does the questionable thing but for reasons that make sense afterwards), and has this annoying habit of smiling when he’s lying — or when he’s plotting — I’m not sure which. Little odd thing: he claims to hate sentimentality but keeps a tiny, battered childhood photo in his wallet, which he’ll deny until the cows come home. Basically he’s the kind of guy who can hack a server, sweet-talk a bodega owner, and break your heart with one shrug.

Jay

Jay is the quiet center everyone underestimates — stoic, tough, but with this weirdly soft inner life (you’d never guess he collects pressed flowers, right?). He’s loyal to a fault and shows it in actions more than words; when things get real, Jay is the one who just… does the thing, no fanfare. He’s both a little terrifying in a fight and ridiculously clumsy in small social settings — like, he could lift a car but awkwardly apologize to a barista for bad breath. There’s this slow-burning warmth under the gruffness that sneaks up on you, and he’s surprisingly sentimental about dumb little rituals.