Harriet never slept particularly well in Auradon. Back on the Isle, she’d slept near the docks, with the sound of the waves always crashing in the distance. The water might have been dirty, their supplies might have been meager, but it was peaceful in a way, too. Here, she was too far from the sea, holed up in a dorm room that sometimes felt more like a prison, and no sleep machine or attempt at recreating the ocean seemed to help her be at peace. Harriet had just rolled over to take a sip of water and make another attempt at sleeping when she heard a slight scuffle outside of her door, and never one to lay in wait while an enemy might be approaching, Harriet hopped up out of her bed and padded towards the door, flinging the door open without a second thought. “Who dares come here?” she demanded, expecting a prank or maybe even a predator. Instead, she found a present, and spotted an all too familiar retreating figure in the distance. “Slade? What’s the meaning of this?” she called, padding towards him even in her barefoot, pajama-clad state.
