Hallows' Nacht
Hospitals. Nacht hadn't necessarily had bad experiences in them, but she'd never been keen on the ones she'd been inside. There was just something creepy about sterile places. Sterile, closed in places. No colors, boxy rooms, monotonous beeping... The Calamikuhna shook her head. She couldn't imagine a worst place to be vulnerable.
So, naturally, she was less than pleased to receive Drent's letter, directing her to meet him in Medicai. That's it - just to meet him here, and a set of directions. It was...probably intended to be mysterious? The goofball Cake did have a flair for the dramatic, probably due to all the gaming. Evidence of that flair could be seen wrapped around her left forepaw, where a subtly gleaming die seemed to hover over her skin. The chain had been wound tightly in place, disappearing into the fur. The onyx-and-diamond trinket hadn't left Nacht's person since Drent had given it to her, such a long time ago. It choked her up to think about even now; he'd turned her into such a softie. Still, Nacht knew that if these directions led her inside one of the city's many medical facilities, he was going to get such the earful later.
Of course she would still go inside. Drentton may be a goofball Cake, but he was her goofball Cake.
Thankfully, it didn't seem to come to that. The directions appeared to lead her to a lamppost. Just...a lamppost, on one of the less busy city streets. Prowling around the black metal, fire-and-ice pelt start against the marble-gilt curb, Nacht checked and checked again. Maybe he meant the park just down the road instead? But the note didn't seem to account for any extra distance. Huffing quietly, the lady sat, curling her tail around her legs as she looked up at the offending spire. What exactly was he up to?