Sitting in Biana Vacker’s room with a face mask, perfume stinging your eyes, and lotion on every little surface of your body made you reconsider every decision you’d ever made to get to that point. It had started at Foxfire, where Biana took one look at you and said, “My house, tonight.” You couldn’t make any sense of it but nobody said “no” to Biana Vacker, so here you were. “Just a few more lotions and we’ll be done.” She reassured you, as if she hadn’t been saying that for the past hour.