[After a worryingly long pause the door finally opens and Eliza peers out, leaning heavily on the door frame for support. She looks...well, not great to put it nicely. Her eyes are red-rimmed and wet with dark shadows under them. It has not been a good night or morning for her.]
...Good morning, Miss Astarte. [It is morning, right? It's hard to tell.]
no subject
...Good morning, Miss Astarte. [It is morning, right? It's hard to tell.]