[She's not much for propriety, really, but her fingertips at least catch the edge of the door. It swings most of the way closed, a delicately-minded princess would really have to try if she wanted to be scandalized. Carla's not willing to break away to get it the rest of the way, besides.
She hadn't been doing all that way moving forward, and shuffling backwards with the distraction of his mouth might be a disaster if she doesn't find something to sit down on in short order. Her hands catch in the loose fabric around his hips to help steer him along. The space Saya has designated to her is largely unfurnished. Carla really isn't much of an interior decorator. The apartment she'd shared with someone else had come with all of its pieces, that was why she'd chosen it. Here, though, Saya has supplied a bed and not much else has accumulated around it, not besides a strange little shadow-play of a forest that sits in a windowsill and a few things atop a dresser.
She's still reserved on committing to it, knows she doesn't want to be at the apartment, but doesn't always trust this place either. Didn't need to. Chase and Saya would let her into their beds. Karl had a place for her to sleep at Phantomhive, and Isabela made no complaints about having her on the Iris for a few nights. Bed to bed to bed, rarely to her own. The one she considers her own is where Rex sleeps, by himself, waiting. She's scattered. Her anchor is gone and she holds on to what she can, but there isn't really 'home.' Even the campsite makes a better play at the title than here.]
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She hadn't been doing all that way moving forward, and shuffling backwards with the distraction of his mouth might be a disaster if she doesn't find something to sit down on in short order. Her hands catch in the loose fabric around his hips to help steer him along. The space Saya has designated to her is largely unfurnished. Carla really isn't much of an interior decorator. The apartment she'd shared with someone else had come with all of its pieces, that was why she'd chosen it. Here, though, Saya has supplied a bed and not much else has accumulated around it, not besides a strange little shadow-play of a forest that sits in a windowsill and a few things atop a dresser.
She's still reserved on committing to it, knows she doesn't want to be at the apartment, but doesn't always trust this place either. Didn't need to. Chase and Saya would let her into their beds. Karl had a place for her to sleep at Phantomhive, and Isabela made no complaints about having her on the Iris for a few nights. Bed to bed to bed, rarely to her own. The one she considers her own is where Rex sleeps, by himself, waiting. She's scattered. Her anchor is gone and she holds on to what she can, but there isn't really 'home.' Even the campsite makes a better play at the title than here.]