[She's found her journal on her bedside where she'd left it, but her hands are shaking too much to do more than just knock it off the table by accident. You'll hear a thump, then some shuffling sounds as she quickly half-scrambles back away from it. Not scared, exactly, but... something. Some audible but shallow breathing, mildly resembling
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M-Martel....?
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Hold on, I'm coming.
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What's wrong, miss?
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There's a long silence as the breathing slowly is forced into silence, and then, carefully calm:]
Nia, I've returned. Please, don't hurry home. I'm rather... rather tired for conversation.
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Who's there?
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There's no cause for alarm.
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'Tis only I.
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R-Ratatosk.
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...I thank you.
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