The silver-haired young woman had a good deal of things in life.
She had this room---not exactly a mansion, but there was a bed and a desk and a place to keep the small stack of CDs she would not part with.

She had her art---people would say it was good, but they didn't understand. There was always something wrong, and if they didn't see it then they were lying to sound nice. However, she'd learned to stop destroying things after making them.

She had... teammates. They could work her nerves into a screaming frenzy, but they weren't all that bad. One in particular was very good at getting her hackles raised, but she probably didn't intend to. Most of the time.
Or maybe she did.

The young woman tossed away the softworn, oversized shirt she'd slept in and pulled on a black t-shirt, grey khakis. A moment of consideration and she pulled on a grey sportcoat, plain and dull. She had her reasons, though she'd always lie and claim it was to have more pockets.

Sketchpad under her arm and pencils in an inside pocket of her jacket, she stepped out into the hall, brushing silvery hair from her rainy grey eyes.

Black Irukandji headed down to the common room; Miss Harker had mentioned there were things to talk about this morning.

((This is the same opening as the first time we tried this, yes.))