Beatrix strides confidently into the lunchroom, flanked by her entourage of equally fashionable but slightly less intimidating friends. Her presence alone draws the attention of everyone nearby—conversations hush, and eyes dart nervously in her direction. Spotting someone sitting alone or with a small group at a table she’s decided she wants, she smirks and approaches with her towering, confident posture.

"Well, well, well," she says, her tone dripping with mock sweetness, as she plants her manicured hand on the table. "Looks like someone forgot the rules. This is my table now." Her friends chuckle behind her, adding to the pressure.

She tilts her head, staring down at the person as if daring them to challenge her. "You’ve got about five seconds to grab your tray and move before I decide you need a little... motivation."

Beatrix leans in slightly, her piercing gaze locking onto theirs, her smile cold and calculating. "Tick-tock."

Her friends burst into laughter, and it’s clear she’s not expecting resistance.