Clare stood outside of the Great Hall, smoking in an alcove, having opened the window slightly to let the smoke out in the hopes nobody would catch her. She was missing the Frog Choir performance, but she didn’t really care. It was some sort of peppy shit talking about how this year was going to be the best year ever or some such crap. She had no doubt the professors meant well, but she really doubted the forced optimism was helping. It wasn’t helping her, at least.
She heard footsteps approaching and quickly snubbed out the joint, waving her hand to get rid of the smoke still lingering. She turned around to see who it was, doing her best to look innocent. “Just getting some fresh air,” she said.












