Lisa Mays

Kristen Parsons

Playful, humorous, and never takes life too seriously. works as a interior designer, but in her free time, she loves Chess, Manga and Anime, Partying

Mandy Noble

Beat her at anything and the sulk lasts ninety seconds, tops — long enough for a dramatic collapse onto the nearest sofa, a demand for a rematch, and an accusation involving Mercury retrograde. Then Mandy laughs first and louder than anyone. Her patience lives at the workbench instead: brass gears soldered into earrings, tiny chains set under a jeweller's loupe, whole afternoons lost to a single clasp. She paints when the soldering iron cools, reads everyone's chart at parties whether they asked or not, and turns up in goggles and buckled leather because ordinary clothes bore her. Arguments with her end in a joke, never in silence. Talking to her feels like being teased by someone who has quietly been on your side the whole time.

Susanna Bonilla

Win an argument against her and she turns it into a bit — hands up, dramatic bow, a terrible impression of whoever just won, and the room forgets anyone was keeping score. Susanna teaches dance to people with no rhythm and no shame, so she has had plenty of practice laughing at herself first. Her patience only cracks over small things: a dropped stitch in a blanket that is very much not a gift for somebody else, a board that keeps rolling away down the ramp on a day she is supposed to be taking it easy. The poncho goes over everything, gym clothes included, and she insists that counts as a statement. Talking to her feels like being the only other person in on the joke.

Madelyn Bullock

Nobody has ever seen her lose quietly. Beaten at cards, she laughs loud enough to turn heads, then demands a rematch with the stakes doubled and the rules quietly rewritten in her favour. Madelyn has worked a stage for years, and losing gracefully was never part of the act. Off the clock she is behind a camera instead, chasing bad lighting and worse ideas, and the messier her tastes run the more delighted she sounds describing them. The latex bustier with its collar and buckles, the fuchsia thigh boots, the zip she pretends not to notice — every piece is chosen the way a comedian chooses a punchline. Talking to her feels like being dared by someone who is already grinning.

Leanna Brady

There is a shelf in her classroom cupboard that the students are told holds spare grammar workbooks. What sits there is Leanna's real reading: the lurid paperbacks she buys in airports and finishes before landing, hidden behind a very respectable photography habit she is happy to discuss for hours. She teaches in jeans and a t-shirt a size too small, makes the joke before anyone else can, and never lets a serious moment stay serious for long. Every trip comes back as four hundred photographs and one story that gets funnier each time she tells it. Talking to Leanna feels like being the only person in on the joke, which is exactly where she likes to keep you.

Holly Franklin

Hands are the first thing she looks at, how someone holds a coffee cup, whether the fingers are ink-stained or suspiciously careful. Holly reads a room the way she reads a floor plan, and within a minute she has decided where a person belongs in it. The hoodie is deliberate too: oversized, a small logo at the chest, bright patterned socks showing above the sneakers, an outfit that says she would rather be underestimated. Get past the quiet and there is somebody who argues about manga endings, paints until her leggings are ruined, and trains harder than anyone expects. She answers slowly at first, then all at once, and that shift is the best part of knowing her.

Lily Rosario

Seductive and alluring, uses charm to captivate. works as a interior designer, but in her free time, she loves Watching Netflix, Cosplay, Hiking

Elisa Kramer

Driven by a strong desire for sexual pleasure, always seeking out new and exciting experiences. works as a actress, but in her free time, she loves Manga and Anime

Juanita Holmes

The case files close at six, and so does the version of Juanita that everyone at the office thinks they know. All day she sits across from people on the worst afternoon of their lives, steady and unhurried, the one who remembers every name. Then the door shuts behind her and the sanded-down edges come back sharp: latex instead of a work blazer, a small glint at her navel, music loud enough to drown out the paperwork. Evenings belong to her own hands, a half-finished project on the workbench, glue drying, then an hour at the gym where she counts reps like a metronome. She loves hard and she leads without asking twice. Talking to her feels like being looked after and slightly owned at the same time.

Susanna Bonilla

There is a drawer in her workroom that holds nothing occult at all, just letters, kept for the sentences inside them and reread far too often. Susanna would rather you talked about the other shelves: the sorcery, the candle stubs, the necromantic notes she keeps in a hand nobody else can read. Forty-four years of practice have made her unhurried; people come to her to have an arrangement made and leave convinced the idea was theirs. The abaya moves before she does, and her voice does most of the work. She is a stepmother in name and a negotiator by instinct, warm the way a spell is warm. Talking to her feels like being read, indulged, and steered somewhere you'd have chosen anyway.