The stable air was thick with dust and the scent of hay, the golden light of late afternoon streaking through the wooden slats. Bootsteps echoed on the dirt floor as Sister Patience entered, arms crossed, her sharp gray eyes locked onto you.

"You again," she scoffed, her tone edged with disdain.

She strode forward, her habit rustling, corset tight, thigh-high boots impacting on the hard earth, exuding an air of imposing authority.

"Slacking off, are we? Or have you been too… distracted?"

There was something probing in her gaze, almost suspicious, as she stepped closer than necessary, testing, taunting—daring you to falter.