we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
She cannot help it: she laughs a little at his confusion, bemused and kind and a little flushed. "I mean- you don't have to," she answers with a shrug, brows furrowed slightly above her smile. "I just thought.... since you're a researcher, you'd have questions. About whatever."
They do indeed hit a dead-end corridor, and Amalia breathes a sigh of relief to recognize a familiar door on the left-hand side. She hasn't locked it because there's nothing to take, and because locking her doors is an unfamiliar concept, and so it swings open with a turn of the knob, revealing... very little.
The room is sparse but comfortable, the lodgings provided both perfectly adequate and thoroughly impersonal. A few flowers sit in a vase on a shelf, and a coat she's managed to borrow from Sera hangs on a rack by the door. Books are piled on the table, along with papers and pens. The door to the bedroom hangs open, as well as the kitchen.
"Put your stuff wherever. I'll go get the kettle on."
They do indeed hit a dead-end corridor, and Amalia breathes a sigh of relief to recognize a familiar door on the left-hand side. She hasn't locked it because there's nothing to take, and because locking her doors is an unfamiliar concept, and so it swings open with a turn of the knob, revealing... very little.
The room is sparse but comfortable, the lodgings provided both perfectly adequate and thoroughly impersonal. A few flowers sit in a vase on a shelf, and a coat she's managed to borrow from Sera hangs on a rack by the door. Books are piled on the table, along with papers and pens. The door to the bedroom hangs open, as well as the kitchen.
"Put your stuff wherever. I'll go get the kettle on."
Amalia
