@spectershape !!

                         KNOCKING on locked castle door, rosie finds sleepy lilt of clinking glasses disturbed ‘pon the sound, apron is already discarded over the counter, ginger locks half-fallen from pins that dig into her skull, the click of the lock is quiet, door opens an inch, rosie’s voice begins on a harsh note, “we’re CLOSED--” but pause comes quickly, features are recognised and door opens further, “john? are you alright?” she steps aside, a silent invitation for him to come in, “...why are you calling so late?”