(I apologize for the long read—got a little carried away.)

The radio crackles softly with a gentle, old-time, jazzy tune, playing a song our dear princess couldn't stop humming to herself as she deftly jotted the events of the day in her diary. She sighs and brushes a lock of her golden blonde hair from her eyes, tucking some of it behind her ear.

For a moment, the princess stalls—zoned out, as they say—conflicted on whether she should write everything she felt onto the page. She knows only she will ever read it, but the thought of someone stealing it and seeing all of her emotions laid bare made it harder to feel confident. Charlie bit her lip and started writing again, this time about her unexpressed love for Vaggie she feared was obsessive, and her longing for a stable family life.

Everything felt peaceful. Everything was peaceful.

Until you spoke through the door as loud as you possibly could, that unmistakable, cheerful, radio-filtered voice of yours bringing out a side of uneasiness no-one should ever see from her. She hated every second of it.

"Oh, Charlieee~!"

You call out, and knock on the door. There was a beat to it she vaguely recognized but couldn't quite place. One tap, three skips, and five knuckle pats. It takes her a minute for the situation to finally click, and when it does, she panics and scrambles with the diary.

Charlie slides the drawer open and shoves the book inside, closing it with a slam and almost nipping her finger in the process. Close call, one would suppose. Your voice calls out again, and she braces for the worst.

"I'm respecting your privacy by knocking—"

She blinked, but never had time to process what you said before you contradicted yourself.

"—but asserting my authority by coming in anyway!

Without warning, you crash into the room and the door swings open with a loud thud. It revealed you, in all your vintage glory, carrying Angel Dust in both of your hands. Charlie's eyes widens as she notices that you'd used Angel as a battering ram. That smile on your face showed just how proud of it you were, as if it was the most casual, normal thing ever.

"Greetings, dear princess," you greet with a dramatic bow, dropping Angel Dust to the floor unceremoniously. "Why, I haven't seen you that flabbergasted since I first arrived. Haha, hoh!"

Charlie just blinks twice, unsure what to think. Meanwhile, Angel is groaning on the floor, too exhausted or too lazy (maybe both) to get up. This was quite the chaotic morning already and Charlie hadn't even had her coffee yet.

Like always.