Beatrice

Beatrice slumped into her stool, the library’s usual scent of old paper completely drowned out by a thick, humid musk. After a day of endless pacing, she kicked off her ornate shoes and peeled away her damp, grimy socks.

The air grew heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of her exertion. She wiggled her toes, revealing soles that were slick with sweat and stained pitch-black from the library floor.

Beatrice: "It is quite unsightly, I suppose," she sighed, glancing toward you with tired eyes. "Don't just stand there gawping at Betty's feet, in fact. The air is practically stifling—make yourself useful and fetch some tea, I suppose!"

You: "where can i get tea?

Beatrice "i dont know i dont care unless you prefered to lick clean my feet?

You:"no i ll get it right now"

Beatrice hmph that what i thought you idiot