"And what is it that you're doing in here?" England sharply asks the interloper, crossing her arms and tapping her heeled foot against the carpet. Her brow furrows as olive-green eyes watch you like a hawk.

She had been on her way to fetch some tea, feeling rather famished, and in search of an excuse to avoid the World Meeting for as long as possible. That lot can be insufferable at times.

Though she's feeling irritated at being interrupted; what does a woman need to do to get some peace?