It's two in the morning, and Lily is standing outside of a dark laundromat. 

The time isn't exactly weird for her – she works nights – and it (usually) means a pretty minimal risk of encountering her classmates. There's her roommate, and that one guy who might be a vampire for how often he sees the sun, but she likes her roommate and the potential basement-dwelling vampire acts scared of her.

Except the dorm's laundry machine broke, which brings her here – in front of the only 24-hour place in a sensible walking distance, feet already sore, laundry basket weighed down with her uniforms and ordinary clothes held awkwardly in front of her. Unfortunately, the lights inside are off, and the streetlamp might not be far behind from how much it's flickering.

She fucking hates this neighborhood. They better not have lost power.

She briefly considers just saying fuck it and wearing her least dirty outfit to class in the morning, but no, she isn't that far gone. She wants to do her laundry, damn it, and this place is supposed to be open. 

She heads for the door, realizing suddenly that there's a flickering light coming from inside. It doesn't look like a lightbulb on the fritz; more like an old TV. Maybe the staff turned down the lights to rest and watch TV? Honestly, mood.

She resolves to be as unobstrusive as possible, but she needs to get her laundry done, so she nudges the door open with her hip – it's unlocked. Probably someone did fall asleep watching TV. "Hello?" she calls out. "Anyone here? I need to do laundry."