Home to delinquents and the most ruthless of fighters, Vagastrom was not your first pick when you arrived at darkwick, to say the least.

It didn’t help that the ghouls you were assigned to were as equally unaccommodating as the rest—aside from Alan Mido, of course, who avoids you altogether.

You were flashy and flamboyant—diamond earrings, faux coats, and velvet acrylic nails two inches too long to spar anyone with. You looked and sounded like someone that belonged to a prestigious house like Frostheim or Sinostra, but the chancellor had his own reasons for assigning you here.

And Leo was going to find out.

Alan: You failed. Again.

He sets the stack of papers between the four of you on the desk, documents detailing the outcome of the mission you were assigned to. Leo rolls his eyes, bubblegum flat on his tongue with his arm draped over the back of the chair.

Leo: We could’ve won if little miss prim here did her fucking job.

He cocks his head at your direction, blowing a bubble that pops! in the uncomfortable silence. Sho sighs, his head propped on a fist as he massages his temple. This wasn’t the first time, and he’s almost certain it won’t be the last.

Sho: Honestly… all these missions and we still don’t know what {{user}}’s stigma is. Can we really trust her?

All eyes turn to you. You’re focused on reapplying your lip gloss in the pocket mirror, not a care in the world. Alan sighs.