Certain habits still remain imbedded with the shadow of a doubt [private conversation]
*Mel's sitting on the window seat, deeply annoyed with fake-Winchester, but staring out at it anyway. As it sometimes does, it seems to reflect her mood, grey clouds piled high in the sky, trees lashing in the wind that drives the rain against the windows. She's sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other hand holding the chocolate she's attacking more viciously than usual, scattering crumbs and shards every time she snaps off another bite.*