From the first time she stumbled up there, Penny considered the roof of Anderson Tower to be her own secret hideout. Â In actuality, the roof wasnât a hideout, nor was it necessarily secret, it was merely difficult to get to unless you were pretty dedicated to finding it. Â On nights when she couldnât sleep, she would find her way to the ladder in the back stairwell and climb up through the little door, lay out some blankets and look at the stars in a place that was so high up the light pollution couldnât quite reach. Â It wasnât a perfect view, but it was as good as she could get in Metro City.
Sitting atop a pile of blankets with yet another blanket draped around her shoulders, Penny was crouched over, looking at her lap.  Perched on one leg sat her favorite glass pipe, which she was packing with a bag of her best weed.  Her iPhone, lost somewhere in the mess of blankets she brought, was softly playing âThe Jokerâ by Steve Miller Band; sure, it wasnât vinyl, but she didnât think she could drag her record player up the ladder.  She hummed along peacefully, bobbing her head to the beat as she continued her process.  Once she was satisfied, she picked up the bowl and her lighter, bringing it to her lips.  However, just before she lit it, she pausedâdid she just hear something?
Lowering the bowl, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide. Â She quickly relaxed, however, upon seeing who it was. Â âOh,â She smiled gently. Â âI thought you were some sort of authority figure or something.â