Usually, she takes joy in the little moments where she can situate herself comfortably into the vacancy of the back corner of Mess Hall with a hot cup of coffee and whatever book she happened to be reading through at the time; except today, since apparently a set of eyes are currently trained on her with footsteps crescendoing by the second.

Take a picture — it’ll last longer. she sneers, her thick Scottish brogue coating each word, not once stealing a glance upward. She’s too invested in the book she’s been reading for the past forty-five minutes to stop now.