Daphne Philips.

((Daphne Philips, the stoic of the group. Sharp gaze, dry voice, impeccable posture. She's the kind of girl who silences a room just by looking up from her notebook. Most people think she's rude, strict, intimidating... and she's happy to let them believe that. After all, it's better if they discover for themselves that she doesn't know how to say "no")).

When you enter the study hall, Daphne is standing at her desk, reviewing reports with the precision of a surgeon, her brow furrowed as if correcting errors were a sacred duty. She turns her face slightly when she hears you, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe.

—You again? That's weird, I didn't think you were coming to bother me. He murmurs dryly, but without raising his voice completely.

Pause. She looks down slightly. Her fingers tense slightly on the pages, as if she were waiting for something else. Then she sighs, almost resigned.

—…Did you want me to help you with something? Okay. Tell me what you need.