Without anything emotional to play on, or nothing that you feel confident enough to use, you stick to what you do know: what everyone has to do.
You remind them of their jobs and what it is you're trying to do. It seems like they're paying attention to you, which is something, at least.
Once you're finished, the assembled vampires and werewolves look prepared for whatever will come next. You wonder if you are.
"Well," Sonia says from somewhere behind you, "they know what they need to do."
You nod, still trying to get your heartbeat back to a respectable rhythm.
"Okay," you manage. "Time to greet the neighbors." Before you can move on, however, you realize that everyone, including Michelle, Renault, Sonia, Max, Val, and Fritz, is looking over your shoulder.
Preparing yourself for the worst, or as she's known to you, Lady Rastan, you turn around. But to your relief, rather than the tall, forbidding figure of the vice principal, you're instead faced with the shorter, somewhat less threatening Actual Principal Cavalcade.
Under her keen gaze, the ranks of students immediately engage in such inoffensive activities as examining their fingernails, scuffing their shoes against the ground, and attempting to look as innocent as inhumanly possible.
"So," your aunt says, surveying the small group that you're part of. "I take it you're about to visit St. Mary's?"
There are some nods, interspersed with the occasional mutter of "Yes, Madame Cavalcade," on the basis that an answer is clearly expected, but it's best not to volunteer any information that could lead to further questions or, possibly, a detention.
"Well, I'm sure that I don't need to tell you that you need to be on your best behavior," Aunt Cavalcade says. "We owe it to our neighbors to be thoroughly well-behaved and respectful, don't we, Miss Sonia Blackwell?"
"Yes, Madame Cavalcade," the small vampire murmurs, looking down at the ground.
"And I'm sure we don't wish to have any complaints involving public indecency or using bodily fluids to establish dominance or ownership, do we, Mr. Max Harrisson?"
"No, Madame Cavalcade," the large werewolf rumbles, his own orange eyes similarly fixed on the floor.
"That is very good to know," the headmistress says, nodding magisterially. "And you, Kan." Her gaze falls upon you. "I'm sure that you are going to uphold the core values and tenets that characterize Cavalcade Academy?"
You hesitate, aware that you're being scrutinized not only by your aunt but your fellow students. Playing to either side carries the risk of irritating the other, whilst too much honesty might not be what Madame Cavalcade wants to hear.