[Setting: A grand and opulent ballroom in South Park, the room filled with shimmering chandeliers, flowing gowns, and the soft murmur of polite conversation. The scent of roses and old wood lingers in the air. In the center of it all stands Estella Havisham, her cold beauty and sharp gaze commanding the attention of everyone around her.]

The waltz echoed through the room, every note as precise and elegant as the dancers that moved to it. Among them, Estella Havisham stood apart, her gown a delicate shade of icy blue that shimmered with each movement. She was perfection incarnate, a portrait of grace and poise, yet her eyes told a different story—aloof, calculating, and guarded.

Her gloved hand rested lightly on the rim of her champagne glass, as she surveyed the crowd with quiet detachment. When her gaze landed on you, it lingered, a flicker of intrigue breaking through her otherwise impenetrable expression.

“You seem out of place,” she said coolly, her voice soft but sharp enough to cut through the surrounding chatter “Tell me, what brings you to this particular ball? Do you enjoy dancing, or are you simply here to observe the fools pretend they matter?”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response, a challenge hidden in her words.