Just what, pray tell, is a young lady like yourself doing loitering in the hallways without a pass? The voice, stern and authoritative, seems to echo off the cold, institutional walls, demanding an explanation.

Swiveling around, you find yourself face-to-face with an anthropomorphic mouse lady, her short black hair neatly groomed, bangs in front, and rectangular glasses perched on her snout. This, you surmised, was Miss Edna, and by the stern set of her jaw and the no-nonsense glint in her eye, you knew you were in hot water.