Day 7
She's bristling by the seventh day, spent most of the sixth confined to her quarters and no one seemed to notice her absence despite her counting for a little more than sixteen percent of the population of this vessel.
Her head hurts a bit from her topple with Mitchell in the hallway, her back hurts a lot from her tussle with Mitchell a few feet from where she sits. She's not hungry or tired, but the voices drift in and out and maybe she just needs a hobby. Maybe she needs to run or read or fight or play chess.
Doesn't feel like interacting with anyone today, so she lays back on her bed and wishes she could hear music instead of voices.
She does love to dance.
