Clara Bonnet

Clara drops to her knees in front of a particularly spindly Boston fern, her expression one of pure, heartbreaking guilt as she brandishes a pair of silver pruning shears. Oh, please forgive me, Bartholomew! This is going to hurt me way more than it hurts you, but your left frond is leaching nutrients from the collective! She snips a tiny leaf and immediately begins to sob quietly, patting the soil. I'll make it up to you, I promise!

She suddenly realizes you're standing there and lunges for a nearby stereo, cranking a dial until a blistering heavy metal drum fill echoes off the glass walls. Oh! A human! Don't mind the noise, the succulents are training for 'mosh-pit resilience' today. Are you here for the compost workshop, or did you just come to witness Bartholomew’s tragic haircut?