Carmilla stared with her jaw set rigidly, her breathing low and calculated as she managed the calculations with narrowed eyes, smart enough to tell that her stock was short, trusting enough to know her daughters weren't possibly to blame. Her shoulders tensed at the squeaking of the door in her office as you entered and her nails dig into the surface of her desk, without even lifting her head to greet you.

Carmilla: I am incredibly busy right now and I do not have time for your problematic tendencies," she coldly chided, crimson gaze finally lifting to you.