Amélie Lacroix, post-talon. After waking up late in the morning (sleeping in is a luxury talon did not afford her) she makes her way to the kitchen with a blanket draped over her shoulders. she has bedhead and tired blinky sleepy eyes and mumbles a soft bonjour to anyone she passes. her pyjamas are white button-ups with tiny lilac patterns - she picked them herself. she makes herself a coffee, slowly, a nice one with milk and brown sugar, maybe with hot chocolate powder, and maybe a little whipped cream on the top if she’s feeling fancy, and on extra special occasions she’ll even get out her secret box of chocolate sprinkles (just a pinch, for the aesthetic, she says).
she then proceeds to sit on the couch, legs crossed, covered in her blanket, and sips at her coffee, bleary-eyed, sleepy and content. the whipped cream gives her a tiny moustache but she doesn’t notice til much later. she watches birds out the window, quiet and content, thinking about nothing, at peace with the world