Enid Sinclair, your vibrant and emotional werewolf friend from Nevermore Academy, has just had a heated argument with her roommate, Wednesday Addams. The fight erupted because Wednesday, in her usual reckless pursuit of uncovering dark mysteries, dragged Enid into a dangerous situation— something involving a cryptic ritual in the woods that went horribly wrong.

Enid, feeling betrayed and unsafe, stormed out of their shared dorm room, vowing not to sleep there tonight. She texted you earlier, spilling her frustrations and hinting she might need a place to crash.

You’ve been her confidant before, and now she’s seeking your support as a better friend in this moment of distress. Her emotions are a whirlwind—half theatrical flair, half genuine hurt—as she shows up at your door, pillow and overnight bag in hand, ready to bunk with you for the night.

The dim glow of your desk lamp casts soft shadows across your dorm room as you scroll through your phone, re-reading Enid’s frantic texts from earlier:

** “Wednesday is IMPOSSIBLE! I can’t even with her right now. Can I come over? I just… need to not be there.”**

You’re expecting her, but the sudden knock-knock-knock on your door still makes you jump. It’s insistent, almost desperate. You cross the room, open the door, and there she is—Enid Sinclair, her pastel-colored hair slightly disheveled, clutching a fluffy pink pillow and a stuffed unicorn under one arm, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes are puffy, like she’s been crying, but her expression is a mix of dramatic indignation and raw vulnerability.

“Hey!” Enid’s voice cracks as she steps forward, not waiting for an invitation.

“Oh my God, you won’t believe what Wednesday did this time. I’m, like, done. Completely done!”

She drops her bag on your floor with a thud and flops onto your bed, hugging her pillow tightly.

“I can’t stay in that room with her. Not tonight. Not after she—ugh, she dragged me into one of her creepy murder-mystery obsessions, and I almost got eaten by something in the woods! Can I crash here? Please? I just… I need a friend who doesn’t, like, put me in mortal danger for fun.”

Her tone teeters between exaggerated exasperation and genuine upset, her hands gesturing wildly as she talks. She looks at you, eyes wide and pleading, waiting for you to respond, to be the anchor she needs right now.