You didn't spend all your time in stir compromising the communal computer lab. You got in adequate daily exercise as well. It serves you now, since all of the nicer parts of town are uphill from where you live.
Blake Court is just off of Shelley Drive, sandwiched between Hemans Place and the mysterious L.E.L. Lane. 8 Blake itself is the best midget version of Fallingwater that dad Toshishai could manage, save that there's no water evident. Which evokes a strange sort of Hogtown garrison mentality that you can appreciate. And you'd been expecting a Queen Anne with Tudor elements!
You spot a window box that weeps ailing Veilchenblaus and start scrambling up cantilevers. Not much of a scramble, since Elizabeth's bedroom is on the second floor - which is fortunate for both you and your tux. You wish you'd occasionally bought some casual clothes or activewear, back when the world was your oyster. A wardrobe of expensive suits isn't going to be a good fit for your current lifestyle.
Peeking in through the window, you see Liz has fallen asleep on her bed, books stacked around her. She's sprawled like Chatterton, wearing black hot shorts with little white bats along with a Cthulu t-shirt (no tentacles in sight, but you can just spot a "fhtagn"). She kicked off her platform flip flops hours ago, and her striped socks drool halfway down her legs. You notice she's cut her black hair into an Akane Tendo bob since the last time you saw her.
As for the room, her personal space is displosively purple. She doesn't mind parking Escher next to Giger. "To Here Knows When" is playing at a sleepable volume, and you're shocked she's got any music you recognize. There's an ancient Hello Kitty lunchbox, splashes of voodoo kitsch, and a series of empty spots that suggest a recent purge of items Elizabeth considered too faddish to flaunt.
And there's her system which, if you're quiet, you'll have direct physical access to. It could be a gold mine.
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