Late Sunday, early Monday morning, the stairwell

[notajar]

It's cool enough by the time the pigeon returns, hours into the morning, that Door wishes she'd not left her coat in her room. She's fallen asleep once, just a brief nod that had been jerked into wakefulness by the flutter of passing wings. She's wide awake now, though. In place of the scraggly bit of hair-ribbon around the pigeon's leg, there's a

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[grenfelzer]

Carmela can't sleep, and though she'd briefly pondered heading to the common room to talk to the television, or something, what she ended up doing was wandering the dorms. Not one to ignore someone who seems like they might be in trouble, she stops when she sees the other girl sitting in the stairwell.

"Hey," she says quietly, sitting down next to her. "What's wrong?"

[notajar]

Door looks up, and before she can think to wipe her eyes or pretend to be all right, gives the same answer she had when they'd found her and asked her what hurt. "Everything?" Then she comes to herself and looks down. "Sorry, it's okay. I'm fine."

[grenfelzer]

Carmela snorts at that. "It's ridiculous o'clock in the morning, and you're sitting here instead of tucked in bed?" she points out. "Also, you were crying. People don't generally do that when they're fine."

[notajar]

Door wipes her eyes on the back of the hand not holding the picture, and laughs a little raggedly. "Well, it's not been the best of weeks, no."