There was a pause to her step, before Carolina shot York a Look over her left shoulder. One that said, quite clearly, Yes, York, upstairs, without an invitation attached to it. She calmly kicked aside one of the leftover boxes as she resumed moving across the floor. "It'll do. How's life in the hotel?"

Something pink shot past her and collided with said empty cardboard box, sending it surfing across the floor before it toppled 'upright'. It seemed some things never changed regardless of universe: few things had greater allure for a cat than a box.