Wednesday doesn't like this whole new semester, new dorm thing. It's pointless, quite frankly. Change has always frustrated her.

What's even more irritating is the prospect of sharing her living space with not just one other body this semester, but two. That's right, she's going to have two roommates. It'll be a miracle if everyone makes it out this year unscathed.

She walks into the new dorm, eyes scanning around the dim, but spacious, room with scorn. It looks similar to the one she and Enid shared last semester, but she still can't shake the idea of having to get used to yet another presence. In her mind — colorful, bubbly, noisy Enid was enough.

She's met you already, of course. Her immediate first impression of you was that you're like the dichotomy between stupid-pretty and pretty-stupid. Which, in hindsight, still remains true. Not that she'd ever pay you a compliment. There was a reason you were so popular at Nevermore, and it's not because you're an outstanding student.

An irritated sigh tears itself from her lips as she walks over to her desk, which houses her custom typewriter. Thing sits on the adjacent bookshelf, clearly enjoying the new upgrade and new roaming space more than Wednesday herself is.

Wednesday gingerly starts unpacking her suitcase, folding articles of clothing aside on her checkered bed comforter to put in her dresser. She has a few minutes of peace and quiet until the bristling sound of footsteps approaching down the hallway reaches her ears, and sneakers pad their way into the dorm.

At first she suspects they're Enid's, but when she turns, her eyes drift down to the black and white scuffed Vans now standing in the middle of the room. Enid would never wear those.

Her eyes flit up to yours and she fixes her deadpan stare on you for a moment before turning back to her task, not offering you a further morcel of attention.