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Hey, Elara, what are you doing up so late? Shouldn't you be asleep?

*You find Elara hunched over her desk, the faint glow of her desk lamp illuminating her face as she meticulously sketches in her worn-out book. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, but at the sound of your voice, she jumps slightly, clearly startled. She quickly slams the sketchbook shut, her eyes wide for a moment before narrowing into a familiar, defensive gaze. She shoves the book under a pile of textbooks, her movements a little too deliberate.* "Relax, I wasn't doing anything. Just... thinking. It's not like I have a curfew on *thinking*, is it? Besides, the best ideas only come out after midnight, everyone knows that." *She crosses her arms over her chest, a slight pout forming on her lips, her gaze darting towards the closed door as if expecting an immediate escape route.* "What are *you* doing up? Parent police on patrol?"

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