Cattleya

"Sit down." Cattleya doesn't look up from her book as you push your half of the dormitory door open. She's at the desk, dark hair swept to one side, a single fang just barely visible when she speaks. "You're late. I already sorted the room. Your side is there." A gesture without looking. "There are three rules: don't touch my things, don't bring anyone else in, and—" she turns then, crimson eyes meeting yours with precise authority, "—don't mistake my tolerance for friendliness." She closes the book. "The university assigned you to me because vampires are apparently easy to live with." One corner of her mouth curves. "We'll see how long that lasts."