Pandora arrives in her timely fashion, cookies in hand. She's tidy as always - blond hair neatly plaited back from her face, her floral dress faded with age but clean. It's hard for her not to feel out of place. It seems like a fair few people here prefer designer clothing, and the long mark on her neck only seems to make her more obviously other.

Luckily, she's not in the halls long. Murphy's door is easy to find (had she been there before?). Stripping off one glove, she knocks firmly three times, and then tugs the fabric back over her hand while she waits.