[When Lenalee comes through, she is tense and ill-tempered, feeling as though she is chasing coattails 'round hallways corners. It is bright here, and dry, and warm, and the peaks of her cheekbones tingle pleasantly while she pulls her bearings back in on herself.
A few dozen yards ahead, white hair catches her eye (—wrong person, a dull pang), and she calls to him without bothering to lighten her tone.]
no subject
A few dozen yards ahead, white hair catches her eye (—wrong person, a dull pang), and she calls to him without bothering to lighten her tone.]
"A nap", you said.