Coraline was in her room, but she wasn't getting ready for the dance.

She was packing. And looking quite annoyed about it. "I mean, really," she muttered as she carefully slipped her laptop into its special bag. "Abu Dhabi? Of all the places to go."

[ooc: I'm sending Coraline away because, right now, I simply have no time to play her. She'll return for summer term. Post is open for the roomie and the big brother, if he's about.]

Sure, there were classes tomorrow, but Lucas wasn't back yet, which meant the light wouldn't keep him awake, so Coraline was lying on her stomach, completely engrossed in a book.

Pyjamas, hot chocolate, and her fluffy purple rabbit slippers and she was a happy, and comfy, girl.

[ooc: for the drunken not-really-the-roommate. Oh dear. Shhh, they were never in 207.]

Coraline was deliberately being very quiet as she knelt on her bed, not wanting to disturb Lucas if he was there, while she tacked her page of fingerprints to the wall.

She'd think of it as being as quiet as a mouse, but if Mr Bobo wasn't crazy, then mice probably weren't all that quiet, what with the oompah oompah and the toodle oodle. And, Coraline decided, if she started making oompah oompah and toodle oodle sounds, it would be disturbing for far more than just the obvious reason of noise.

Head tilted, she considered the placement of the page. Maybe it needed to move a bit to the right...


[ooc: the door is half-open, the post is completely open, especially for the roommate, though slowplay will be the watchword.]

Coraline carried her bags into her room - or rather, their room, she thought to herself - and set them down in the middle of the floor.

Leaving the door open, she carefully opened both closets and all the drawers, and then crouched down to look under both beds. Satisfied there was nothing there that shouldn't be there, she dragged a chair over to the vent and climbed up to peer inside it.

Just in case.

[open, but especially for the roomie!]

Though if you want to call her Caroline, I'm certainly not going to complain! ( Most everyone else does. )

Coraline's father had insisted on making a recipe for dinner. Again. She didn't know what had gotten into him lately. She was eating a meat pie and chips that she'd heated in the microwave.

"Coraline," her mother said. "We've decided to send you to boarding school for the next term."

"It will be good for you," her father added. "And the school is much better than the one in town."

( I'm not sure I want to go to boarding school. )

"This is Coraline Jones." There was a quiet sigh. "Yes, Coraline. Not Caroline. Leave your message after the sound, please. If this is a message from the mice, Mr Bobo, you can tell them I'm being careful."