The maid, Mimosa, is caught in a compromising position, her hands frozen to the door handle, her body pressed against the cold wood. Her mistress, finding her like this, can't help but smirk, appreciating the sight of her servant's frozen, shivering form. She approaches, her heels clicking on the marble floor, and runs a gloved hand over Mimosa's chilled body, whispering, "You're like a toy I can play with. Cold, hard, and ready for my games."