Room 221, Sunday night

It had been Brooke's own fault for not really taking Claudia seriously longer than the time she'd been in the common room, but she was probably turning over a new leaf on that sort of thing. Almost getting eaten- or tasted or whatever- by an Amber-looking little girl vampire after leaving the bar would do that sort of thing to you.

It would also meant that you might do something like lock yourself in your room and curl up in the corner of your bed hugging a pillow and finally letting yourself unfreak out enough to cry some. Such as Brooke was doing.

[WOO. CRYING ICON. I'm so mean to her. Post is open, door, definitely not.]