[ There's no small amount of relief in her voice, Ariadne not bothering to exert the effort to disguise it. Though the smell of baked goods is down here as well, there's also the smell of the outside thanks to Yusuf's open window. It smells a little less like her childhood home, like breakfast in Paris, and more like what she's used to in the City -- the smell of cats, of living with three men with varying standards of hygiene, of chemical compounds that don't always travel upstairs. It's comforting in a way she never really thought it would be, not because she thought she wouldn't get used to this sort of thing but because she didn't think about getting used to it at all. Still, just a few more months and if she doesn't leave, she'll have been here for a year. It's a strange thought.
Despite the fact that the house has air conditioning, Ariadne's still dressed down for sleep in a camisole and a pair of baggy shorts. Her hair's a bit messy, a sign that she at least tried to sleep before wandering down to the basement. It obviously didn't work out. Her tattoo peeks out her back, near her shoulderblade, the tip of the Eiffel Tower visible from the center while the lines of the maze twist around it. It's been healed for a while now, and Ariadne absentmindedly rubs at it once she's through Yusuf's door before heading over. ]
Busy? [ Whether he is or not, it's not stopping her from sitting on his bed next to him, leaning over into his personal space to look at what he's writing. ]
action;
[ There's no small amount of relief in her voice, Ariadne not bothering to exert the effort to disguise it. Though the smell of baked goods is down here as well, there's also the smell of the outside thanks to Yusuf's open window. It smells a little less like her childhood home, like breakfast in Paris, and more like what she's used to in the City -- the smell of cats, of living with three men with varying standards of hygiene, of chemical compounds that don't always travel upstairs. It's comforting in a way she never really thought it would be, not because she thought she wouldn't get used to this sort of thing but because she didn't think about getting used to it at all. Still, just a few more months and if she doesn't leave, she'll have been here for a year. It's a strange thought.
Despite the fact that the house has air conditioning, Ariadne's still dressed down for sleep in a camisole and a pair of baggy shorts. Her hair's a bit messy, a sign that she at least tried to sleep before wandering down to the basement. It obviously didn't work out. Her tattoo peeks out her back, near her shoulderblade, the tip of the Eiffel Tower visible from the center while the lines of the maze twist around it. It's been healed for a while now, and Ariadne absentmindedly rubs at it once she's through Yusuf's door before heading over. ]
Busy? [ Whether he is or not, it's not stopping her from sitting on his bed next to him, leaning over into his personal space to look at what he's writing. ]