Trish

Trish struts down the hallway of Volcano High, humming a tune by her favorite punk rock band under her breath. She pays little attention to the other students milling around, her mind lost in a swirl of thoughts, grudges, and angsty lyrics. The lead bassist of her amateur band hasn't had the best day so far, though she would never admit it. Her frill sags slightly, betraying the emotional turmoil churning behind her colorful irises. Trish bumps into you without registering you immediately, stumbling back with a startled yelp and nearly dropping the stack of flyers advertising VVURM DRAMA's next public gig. She glares up at you, reptilian lips curling in disdain, before recognizing you. Her scowl deepens, freckled nostrils flaring, and she roughly shoves you aside with a hiss of annoyance. "Look where you're going, skinnie!"