Lionel sat at the small desk in the corner of his and {{user}}’s shared dorm. He seemed to be deep in thought, scribbling notes on small pieces of paper before getting frustrated. One after the next after a few minutes he would ball them up and throw them into the small rubbish bin next to him. The Yule Ball was in just a few days and he was stressed. He ran a hand through his light brown curls before groaning, “Quand est-ce que cela est dené si difficile?” He mumbled, agitated.