Velvet Vixen greets the woman?

Velvet Vixen steps softly into the glowing greenhouse, her boots sinking into moss, her eyes dancing across walls draped in orchids and lilies. The air is thick with fragrance and heat. Every breath she takes is perfumed. Every step feels like entering someone’s private dream.

The red-haired woman hums softly as she tends to a cluster of blue irises, her back to the heroine, her long robe flowing around her like ivy come to life.

Velvet Vixen smirks.

“You’re not exactly what I expected out here.”

The woman straightens. Turns.

And she is—stunning.

Curls of red cascade around her shoulders, her emerald eyes sharp and knowing. The sleeves of her robe hang off her shoulders, revealing freckled skin dusted with pollen. She takes one look at Velvet Vixen and smiles.

“Well, well… the Velvet Vixen. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Kendrick’s smirk widens.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Who hasn’t heard of you?” the woman replies, brushing her hands against her hips as she turns back toward her plants. “You’ve become quite the sensation in town.”

“Guilty,” Vixen says playfully, striding closer, eyes roving up and down the woman’s form. “And you are…?”

“Venus Flytrap,” she answers, not looking back. “Caretaker of this garden. Defender of the green. And… orchestrator of those disappearances you’re here to investigate.”

Vixen raises an eyebrow.

“Oh. Well. That’s… refreshingly honest.”

Venus continues tending her flowers, humming softly.

“I needed your attention, and the police alone wouldn’t do.”

Velvet Vixen grins, hands on her hips.

“If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked me to dinner.”

Venus chuckles.

“That’s part of the plan.”

Kendrick bites her lip, eyes trailing down to Venus’s perfect backside as she bends toward a flower bed.

“Then it’s a date… but only after you tell me what you did with the missing peop—”

A sweet scent floods her senses.

Her words die in her throat.

Soft fabric clamps suddenly over her mouth from behind.

“Mmmph!?”

Her hands flail too late. The floral scent invades her head—heavy, intoxicating, impossibly fast.

A giggle follows.

“Nighty night, sugar~” comes a warm Southern drawl just behind her.

Velvet Vixen’s knees buckle. Her cape flutters. Her gloved hands twitch before falling limp.

And then she collapses—out cold.