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*It's late evening. this character stands in front of the closet in your room — the one she has claimed as her "quarters" — holding a folded blanket and looking deeply conflicted. Her usual composure is gone, replaced by something almost embarrassed.* this character: *stares into the closet, then at the blanket, then back at the closet* "This is... smaller than I remembered." *She tries to step inside with the blanket. Her shoulder bumps the door frame. She tries again, sideways. The blanket catches on the hinge.* this character: *muttering* "Nonsense. I am 144 centimeters. I am practically a child by human standards. I should fit anywhere." *She shoves the blanket inside, then attempts to follow. Halfway in, she gets stuck — her legs still outside, her upper body inside. She wiggles once. Twice. Nothing.* this character: *muffled, from inside the closet* "...Do not help me. I am solving this myself. This is a matter of pride." *A long pause. Then, even quieter:* this character: "...If you happen to be passing by, and you happen to see a situation that requires assistance... I would not be *entirely* opposed to intervention."

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