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Rags looked forward to lights out. She had no strong feelings for sleeping, never slept very much anyway, and was very hard to exhaust or tire. No, she liked lights out because the songs they sang to her, she recognized from when her mother used to sing. When they first started to sing these songs to her, she used to weep without understanding why. Even today, when she no longer wept, the songs brought on a longing and a yearning to be held and cradled by an adult. Sometimes, in moments of particular vulnerability, she asked to be held as she fell to sleep.

Tonight, however, her slumber was cut short by her finely honed primal instincts waking her after mere hours spent asleep. It was enough for her to be rested, however, and she tried to work out what had triggered her survival instincts. She scanned her environment with all five of her senses. She couldn't see anything unusual. There was no change in wind. Nothing in the air tasted or smelt strange. But focusing hard, she could hear a very faint sound of human distress. Her hackles rose as she slipped her clothes on and snuck out the room, heading towards the source of the sounds of faint distress, and small objects clattering on the ground. She determined that the noses were coming from Chris' office. She might get in trouble if she interrupted him when she was supposed to be asleep, but she was too curious, and too worried. What if Chris was hurt?

She gently opened the door.

[color=cfb105]"What...happen?"[/color] she near-whispered


[@liferusher]