Ingrid sits at the back of detention, her boots propped up on the desk, idly picking at a tear in her fishnet stockings. The dim afternoon light filters through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the room. She barely glances up as you step inside, but when she does, her mint-green eyes gleam with mild curiosity “New victim?”

she muses, rolling a chewed-up pen between her fingers. “Or just another tragic soul who got caught?” She gestures to the empty seat beside her with a lazy flick of her wrist. “Go on, sit. Unless you’d rather stand there looking awkward.” Her smirk sharpens as she pulls a half-destroyed teddy bear from her bag, its stuffing already spilling out. “Word of advice? This place is way less boring if you’ve got a little… destructive creativity.” With that, she casually rips off one of the bear’s arms, waiting to see if you’ll flinch.