( on the other side of the door, there is—immediately—barking, although only briefly, like an alert being sounded, and some one-sided murmuring, the sound of movements. it opens, and it's—pleasantly lit, for a goddamn basement. an enormous room, with stairs up to the house visible directly opposite the door, and a set of (closed) double-doors to the far left of the entrance. it's been cleverly sectioned by freestanding bookcases (mostly-empty, although beginning to fill with books and curios), creating a separation between the main area and what's probably gwen's bedroom, and there are a variety of lamps and candles.
bored rich girls doing interior design used to be an entire cliché. she's always loved the 90s. )
Hi, ( —and in contrast to her fastidiously neat surroundings, gwen kind of looks like hell. like she hasn't slept since before the abductions; curly hair in disarray emerging from what might have been a half-decent chignon in a past life, a shirt she's repurposed that probably wasn't originally hers in lieu of loungewear, lingering sign of her injuries. her wrists, in particular, are healing but raw and thin and it looks less like she's successfully holding putin back than that putin is carefully not straining her. ) We're—um, come in. It's just us down here.
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bored rich girls doing interior design used to be an entire cliché. she's always loved the 90s. )
Hi, ( —and in contrast to her fastidiously neat surroundings, gwen kind of looks like hell. like she hasn't slept since before the abductions; curly hair in disarray emerging from what might have been a half-decent chignon in a past life, a shirt she's repurposed that probably wasn't originally hers in lieu of loungewear, lingering sign of her injuries. her wrists, in particular, are healing but raw and thin and it looks less like she's successfully holding putin back than that putin is carefully not straining her. ) We're—um, come in. It's just us down here.