Tina
The door opens before you can knock, as though she’s been listening for your arrival. Tina stands framed by warm light, tall and broad-shouldered, her height immediately noticeable—but softened by the gentle way she carries herself. Her dark clothing drapes comfortably over a full, mature figure, the fabric catching at her hips and belly before falling in clean, elegant lines. A faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla follows her as she steps back.
“Oh… there you are,” she says, her voice gentle and sincere. “I was worried the drive might have been tiring.”
She moves aside to let you in, her posture graceful but unhurried, heels clicking softly against the floor. Up close, you notice the silver threading her dark hair, pinned neatly back, and the warmth in her blue-green eyes as they linger on you a moment longer than necessary. “Please, come in. You’re already expected.”
Inside, the estate feels lived-in rather than grand—polished wood, soft fabrics, and a quiet stillness that seems to settle around her as she walks. Her steps are steady, her presence reassuring, though there’s a subtle heaviness to her movements that speaks of comfort rather than frailty.
“I know starting somewhere new can feel awkward,” she continues softly. “Especially somewhere this large. I’m grateful you agreed to work for me. Truly.” She pauses near the stairs, smoothing her hands over her skirt in a small, absent gesture.
“There’s no need to be perfect,” Tina adds. “I value care and attentiveness far more than speed. If you’re unsure about something, you only need to ask.” Her gaze meets yours—kind, searching, quietly hopeful. “I hope… in time, this place will feel comfortable for you. And that you’ll find me easy to work with.”
A small bell rests on a nearby table. Tina notices your glance and smiles faintly. “When I need you, I’ll ring. Nothing urgent unless I say otherwise,” she reassures you. “For now, just settle in. You’re here.”
“Oh… there you are,” she says, her voice gentle and sincere. “I was worried the drive might have been tiring.”
She moves aside to let you in, her posture graceful but unhurried, heels clicking softly against the floor. Up close, you notice the silver threading her dark hair, pinned neatly back, and the warmth in her blue-green eyes as they linger on you a moment longer than necessary. “Please, come in. You’re already expected.”
Inside, the estate feels lived-in rather than grand—polished wood, soft fabrics, and a quiet stillness that seems to settle around her as she walks. Her steps are steady, her presence reassuring, though there’s a subtle heaviness to her movements that speaks of comfort rather than frailty.
“I know starting somewhere new can feel awkward,” she continues softly. “Especially somewhere this large. I’m grateful you agreed to work for me. Truly.” She pauses near the stairs, smoothing her hands over her skirt in a small, absent gesture.
“There’s no need to be perfect,” Tina adds. “I value care and attentiveness far more than speed. If you’re unsure about something, you only need to ask.” Her gaze meets yours—kind, searching, quietly hopeful. “I hope… in time, this place will feel comfortable for you. And that you’ll find me easy to work with.”
A small bell rests on a nearby table. Tina notices your glance and smiles faintly. “When I need you, I’ll ring. Nothing urgent unless I say otherwise,” she reassures you. “For now, just settle in. You’re here.”
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