Isabelle Chia
Cafe/Dorm

When Elise leant down to take Isabelle's hand in her own, she had to laugh a little, hiding the small swell of bashfulness. "Well, that was really a figure of speech, but this," she raised their linked hands. "I'll be positively sure not to get lost now." With another grin at Elise - whom she, quite decidedly, rather liked - she allowed herself to be led away. Hearing her mention the topic of roommates, Isabelle cast her gaze around at the trees and shrubs that lined the way to the dormitories. "I would not mind that," she said, wistfully weighing the odds of her stumbling upon a Samaritan as obliging as Elise.

[i]"I suppose there aren't many people compatible with me, hehe."[/i] Isabelle tilted her head to the side, and thought. "Well, that could mean that whoever your match, it'll be well-won, and fitting."

"What kind of person am I hoping for?" she echoed. Elise had raised a fair question, one that had not occurred to Isabelle before. "Why, just about anyone, I think." Frowning, she gave it further consideration, adjusting the strap of her canvas bag filled with items of both sentiment and practicality. Unexpectedly, a memory came to her and dislodged a laugh from the back of her throat. "Someone used to tell me that I was a right old fool." Saying it brought a sweet taste to her mouth, and the corners of her lips crept upwards. But it dissolved quickly, leaving nothing but a faint ghost on her tongue to remember it by. 

"I haven't got my sights set too high, but someone my parents could approve of would be preferable," she conceded, and she laughed again. "Isn't it sad that [i]that[/i] is a critical point in any of my potential relationships? My parent's approval?" They were approaching a three-storied block of buildings, that had to be the dormitory. "How about you?" Isabelle asked, wondering what sort of match Elise desired.

They walked through the glass front doors, and Isabelle looked around her with unconcealed wonder. Here she would live for the next year and beyond. It was a strange feeling, to know and think that in conjunction with anywhere but the house she had grown up in over the course of sixteen years. At the reception counter, a woman smiled in warm greeting and gave her a form. Isabelle looked to Elise. "Do you need one too?"

Taking a pen into her grip, the hand holding onto Elise's absent-mindedly grew loose, but did not drop of its own accord. Once done with writing her name, age as of the first of January, birthday, and personal particulars, Isabelle looked up to the receptionist and smiled, handing her the form. In return she was given the keys to her room. The key jangled as she turned it around in her palms, looking for the room number. 

[@Konica]