❝ 𝕓𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕘𝕒𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕤 ❞

( you know … how they say hindsight is always twenty-twenty? like. the simplest things are no-brainers, and common sense comes back from whatever holiday it's been on for however long, and you look back on some of your more ridiculous past mistakes like what in the actual hell was i thinking.

this. this is basically quorra's day-to-day whether she chooses to own up to it or not. she might be a huge nerd, and a smart one, but the universe never misses out on an opportunity for something to come right back around and bite her in the ass.

hey, universe? mind cutting me a bit of slack every once in a while? would that be so bad?

apparently, it would. and that just figures.

the sky has been threatening rain off and on all day, and usually, she likes to think she leaves her apartment better prepared than she had today; the niggling little voice in the back of her mind hadn't been enough to convince her to snag her umbrella before she stepped out, not even a jacket she could have used as a not-at-all weather-proof poncho, because it'll be fine, don't worry about it! fought its way to the forefront and took control of the whole situation. funny, how that happens when it ends up causing the most trouble, but we say again.

that's just her usual.

the rain that starts falling is less of the light misting she might have expected and more a rabid downpour with droplets as big as her head, she swears, and she could have wrapped herself in dozen layers and still showed up outside the mansion drenched down to her skin, down to her bones, and the notion of this has to be what a drowned mouse looks like is not far off the mark. not by a long shot.

at least she's wearing darker colors, because it would have been inherently embarrassing to show off more than just the outline of her bra beneath the dark purple button-down she'd chosen. regardless of that tiny little bit of something to be thankful for, getting caught in the rain means every single one of her layers is clinging to her like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination, and maybe she's just a liiiiitle bit self-conscious as she stands on the stoop waiting to be let in.

because she's not about to just barge in and drip all over the floor. that's just rude.

her grin is the tiniest bit sheepish when klaus finally comes to the door, arms wound around her middle in an attempt to keep hold of some of her modesty. ) Hi. ( because that's a nice, normal greeting. )

Can I borrow a towel? Please?