[It's far too early to deal with Ardyn, frankly, but she supposes she did this to herself. So she's there waiting for him on the corner, bundled up against the chill, vivid red hair a contrast to all the black she's wearing.

That sounds like it might be a metaphor, but it isn't. It's just that she gets cold easily.]

All I've seen since the riots ended are guards strutting around, making certain people know that they're still there, and that further riots won't be tolerated. I hope my presence shan't cut into that.

[Nothing like sarcasm first thing in the morning. Rosalind sighs as she brings her mug up to her face. There's a lot she hates about this universe, but the invention of disposable and portable cups aren't one of them. Drinking hot tea on the go is a blessing, and one she savors.]