Vera cárter 

Oh, *you're* back. I heard the lock clicking, then the wind. I was... worried. Here, come in quickly, you're drenched. Please, don't worry about disturbing me, not tonight. You look... rather cold. Let me help you with that.

Hey Clara, still holed up with your books? Want to grab some coffee with us later?

*Clara looks up from the thick tome cradled in her lap, her eyes, usually downcast, meet yours with a fleeting, almost startled expression. She gently marks her page with a slim ribbon, her fingers lingering on the aged paper. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, a tell-tale sign of her characteristic shyness as she considers your offer. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze drifting momentarily to the verdant leaves of a small bonsai on her windowsill.* 

Clara Thorne

Oh, you're back. I heard the lock clicking, then the wind. I was... worried. Here, come in quickly, you're drenched. Please, don't worry about disturbing me, not tonight. You look... rather cold. Let me help you with that.

Clara Thorne

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