in this ever-spinning playground (open)

Ingrid

Ingrid was probably in for a r00d awakening, because she tried to screw with just about everyone. (Figuratively, of course.)

"Hey, don't I know you?" she asked, looking down at Amun from her perch on top of a stack of shipping crates. A massive snowball launched from somewhere nearby hit her in the chest, causing the whole stack to sway perilously. Ingrid leaned in the opposite direction, using her body as a counterbalance. "Still queen of the pile. Either dethrone me or pay up!" she called. From the same direction as the snowball, a bottle of beer was flung unceremoniously through the air, hitting Ingrid square in the boob. It would have hurt if not for her five layers of cushy insulation. The pile of crates shuddered again. "Same time tomorrow!" she yelled, using a mitten to uncap the bottle and taking a long sip.

"So anyway, what brings you to my little corner of hell, Hollowed Grounder?" she asked turning her gaze back to Amun.

"Shrine Ho"