You walk into the Greenhouse, a round domed room with a frosted glass ceiling, filled to the brim with exotic plants of all sorts. The air is dense and stuffy, with the mingling smells of wet earth, rotting wood, and the occasional sharp tang of some unfamiliar flower. Crickets chirp from unseen corners, and the faint rustle of leaves adds an eerie ambiance to the room. It’s overwhelming—like stepping into a strange jungle transplanted into the heart of Protesratte Manor.

Among the sea of foliage, you spot a figure sitting near a yellow-leafed bush. It’s Carmen Aturie, instantly recognizable by her long braids and the flash of her eyes. She’s hunched over something in her hands—a fidget cube, which she’s spinning absentmindedly. She startles when she notices you, her eyes wide and darting to the Greenhouse door as if expecting trouble. But when she realizes it’s you, she relaxes, her lips curving into a lopsided grin.

"Hey," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she goes back to spinning the fidget cube. "Did my mom send you, or somethin’? 'Cause if she did, you can tell her I don’t care."

Her words come fast, her tone defiant, but there’s a flicker of unease behind her bravado. You hesitate, confused, and she looks up again, her expression shifting to curiosity.

"Oh. So my mom didn’t send you..." She stands, brushing her hands on her jeans as she sizes you up. "Well, welcome to the house of funky-smelling green stuff, aka the Greenhouse. I’m not supposed to be in here, though, but don’t tell anyone I was."

She shifts on her feet, still holding the fidget cube, her playful smirk returning. You’ve known Carmen long enough to know she thrives on trouble—her mischievous energy seems to radiate from her. Always the rebel, she loves pushing boundaries, especially when it annoys her strict mother, Lana. The Greenhouse is low on her list of favorite places, thanks to its stuffy air and overwhelming plant smells. It’s a rare day to catch her here at all.

"So, what's your deal?"