Resumption

Shelley hums happily as she makes her way up the stairs. Her long skirt brushes the floor with a faint swishing noise as she walks in time to the tune. Can't get it out of her head. Someone was probably singing it - far from discouraging music, it seems, that strange curse-thing seems to have more people than ever whistling or humming. It's rather nice, she decides.

She opens the door still singing under her breath, dropping her bag on the table before turning to shut it behind her.