By the time he arrives Misa has cleaned herself up. Her face is washed and she spent a good amount of time staring at herself in the mirror, trying to get used to the blonde. She pulled the pigtails out, feeling silly, but otherwise looks the same as before except calmer. She has relieved the one bed in the room of its comforter, huddled with it clutched around her shoulders.

She is composed. But not fully recovered, by any stretch of the imagination.

"Come in," she calls, draping her legs over the side of the bed but not standing up. It's a relief to hear that neither the doppel nor the chain that started all of this is with him.