London is — a far more crowded city than I remember.

I confess, sometimes I wonder if it is all nothing more than a strange sort of dream. The kind where the world is entirely silent, and you are unsure whether or not you can make a sound yourself. How is it possible for so many people to walk beside each other, close enough to touch, and say not a word to anyone as they go to this place or that place? Even strangers in books are more amiable to each other than this lot.

Still, I suppose there is something to be said for being able to leave the flat whenever I wish.

Finding a good glass of wine here seems an impossible task, though.

[ the school rooftop is old weather-scarred cement, with a chainlink fence wrapped around its perimeter to prevent idiots from jumping off and decorating the courtyard with their guts. Aside from the view ( not a spectacular one, just overlooking the grounds with the rest of the city a nondescript blur in the distance ), there isn't much to see.

It's a painfully ordinary place... and Bernkastel wouldn't have it any other way. All it means is that she's less likely to bump into someone annoying there. She finds no contradictions in despising boredom but hating noise — and, the classroom is usually too rowdy for her to tolerate eating lunch there, especially with Lambda alternately trying to steal bites of food and feeding her bits of her own or whatever.

Not to mention some of the other students...

Well, they won't bother her up here. Shouldering her school bag, Bernkastel grips the door handle with both hands, turning it with some effort. Someone broke the padlock ages ago, but the door to the roof is still a little hard to open using only one hand. She pushes it open...

... and stops, staring at the person she sees. ]

... Hey. What are you doing here?