Date: 2011-09-25 05:55 pm (UTC)
It's home, is all.

*She shrugs, a little awkwardly. And of course to Amrita, now, it is. But the first time she'd woken up here it'd been blinding and startling and alien: high ceilings and a wall of windows and an awful lot of white, and peculiar art and artifacts everywhere--never mind how many times her little room at the Leaky could fit into it.

And it hasn't changed much since then: a few more bookshelves by a little chair for her to read in, an idol in one little nook that's probably the brightest thing in the room, and a circle of carpet that's almost-imperceptibly worn. And of course there's a handsome iron hook suspended from the ceiling, holding only a blameless plant in a hanging pot.

She drops her purse onto a table and crosses the room to the bar.*

Make yourself at home, now. It can get you just about anything--it actually made me coffee once but I was awfully upset, don't know if a repeat performance is in the cards--Iced tea for me, I think, please, with cardamom--

Remus?
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