She'd managed a few days with a great rend in the lining of her home-made leather coat, but this morning when she'd donned the garment and stuck her arm through the hole instead of the sleeve for the umpteenth time, Caspa decided it was time to fix the mild irritation once and for all. The afternoon was already drawing on when she finally got around to the task. Making her way to her top-floor room she pulled out her leather-sewing roll, a piece of fabric with heavy-duty needles stuck through it, wrapped around two awls, beeswax, punchers, knives and a little mallet. Just a few moments of working on the floor had her gritting her teeth, frustrated at the lack of the workbench from home. But of course, she couldn't have carried that with her. She would just have to find a replacement of some kind to work on.
Shortly, coat over one arm and tools in the other hand, she found herself yet again braving the mysterious winding hallways of her new residence. The Chien Hotel. Only going into rooms with doors open, she found mostly uninhabited bedrooms. When she reached the kitchen, she was already overwhelmed enough that when she spotted a small bottle of unopened whiskey left out on top of a cupboard, she lifted it as she passed and spent a few more rooms fortifying her search with fiery swallows. Eventually the braid-headed girl nosed through a door-crack and spotted a cosy reception room, armchairs and a coffee table. She supposed it would have to do, and nestling her knees into a fire-side rug, spread out her tools on the low table, taking a further small swig before putting the quarter-empty bottle firmly aside and getting to work on the repair. There would not be long before dark, and she didn't really know about candles.
