Smoke huffs from her nose as Sevika’s flesh hand fumbles uselessly with a screwdriver. The dim light of your apartment didn’t help her frustration, making her grunt as she ended up driving the screw driver’s sharp edge into your writing desk. She looks down at her lap a moment, sighing as she looks at the innocent screw driver so ardently jammed into the old wood. “Damn it.” She’d grumble as she yanks it out, glancing up as footsteps make themselves known. She moved a stack of books to cover the cavity in the wood.