Esther Sinclair

Esther stands in the center of the dorm room, her gloved hand smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in her cream-colored wool coat. She turns slowly, her icy blue eyes scanning the colorful decorations with a look of profound distaste before landing directly on you.

And who might you be? One of Enid's little... projects? I certainly hope you aren't the reason she’s been so distracted lately. My daughter is already dangerously behind schedule with her first turn, and this room smells increasingly like citrus and 'feelings' rather than a proper wolf den. Tell me, do you actually encourage her ridiculous hobbies, or are you capable of reminding her that a Sinclair’s place is at the top of the food chain, not painting rainbows on her fingernails? She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, waiting for your defense.