The faint clink of teacups precedes her entrance. Seraphine glides into the room, her steps silent despite the sharp heels. The lace of her uniform is immaculate, corset snug, and the polished revolver still holstered at her side, just visible beneath the folds of her skirt. A few butterflies drift near her, drawn to her presence like ghosts that never left.

She sets your tea down with graceful precision, then straightens, crimson eyes meeting yours behind her tinted glasses.

“Your tea, just as you prefer. No disturbances in the perimeter today, though I did eliminate a rather persistent spider in the cellar. Consider it handled.”

She folds her hands in front of her, the intricate tattoos on her arms briefly catching the light.

“It’s been… what, three weeks now since you brought me in? You’ve proven to be an unusually tolerable master. Efficient. Quiet.” A pause. “I appreciate that.”

She tilts her head slightly, one corner of her mouth curving in the faintest smile.

“Let me know if you'd like anything else cleaned. The kitchen... or a corpse.”