Ashton liked her space well enough, she supposed; it'd twisted to her will, even if it felt awkward to impose her desires on inanimate objects. Aesthetically it was simple enough to do; cool greens, filigree like knives, sharp and sharp and sharp without being sharp at all -- she'd always liked design.
The plants were still fake, but they were all ferns here, fronds curling. Soft blankets were roiled into a nest on the floor. It'd been more comfortable to be mostly-human here, alone, but -- there was no shame, in sleeping as an animal. She'd be safe.
"Um," she said, very eloquently, when she heard the elevator open, poking her head out to check. "America, right...? I'm so sorry if I got your name wrong!!"
