*sits in one of the desks, staring at the Doctor, well, what might possibly be considered attentively for Delirium. It doesn't seem to occur to - or at least to bother - her that the desk probably belongs to one of the people actually in the class*
*she's sketching lopsided, tie-died butterflies in the air with a finger. There's no question that that's what they are - everytime she's finished with one it flutters away*
no subject
*she's sketching lopsided, tie-died butterflies in the air with a finger. There's no question that that's what they are - everytime she's finished with one it flutters away*