( surely it helps that she has the proper curves to otherwise fill it out, though stark in it's contrast to the normally hugging fabrics she often wore. beneath there's nothing more than a pair of black panties, of which, aren't peeking through, and wouldn't unless she stretched up onto her toes just right—for now, at least, it isn't in her intentions to tease.

tea was one of the few piping luxuries she found during late nights in the institute, reaching for a twin mug to set aside her own as she adjusts the water on the stove, still hot, but not curling with the necessary tendrils in order to steep the tea perfectly.

while it heats, she's digging out two tea bags, curling their strings around porcelain handles, eyes set on her motions as she speaks. ) I have a difficult time sleeping somewhere I'm not entirely used to.

( all she's ever known is those gothic-like ceilings, a room in which only the decor had changed while she'd grown. ) I'm getting better. I've always preferred the night, though. So much quieter, not as demanding.