S.K. Smith, was raised by wolves in the ancient town of Joplin, Missouri, where, at the ripe, old age of twelve she ran off with a second-rate traveling circus. Having learned the necessary skills of fire-breathing and hoop-jumping, she now spends her pandemic days continuously feeding her cats, Mr. Darcy and Marcello. She can belt out a mean torch song in a pinch and can eat her weight in almond croissants as a service to her country.