Eve sat outside of the hotel on the first night, doing something she'd done the first night she'd spent at Gooseberry. She sat cross legged, in a tank top and jean shorts this time, her hands on her folded knees, her eyes closed and just breathed. Back home, there would be a chill to the air, and the sky would've blackened like expansive bruises by midday, clouds heavy with water. Here, it was somehow muggy in November. The air moving in and out of her lungs felt different than London, and Hogwarts and Utah, and she just wanted to fully appreciate it. She wanted to appreciate it because she wasn't sure she'd ever return to Florida. She'd heard it referred to as the arsecrack of the states before, but it was still a place on earth, a place specifically far away from London, and for that she was grateful.