[In the middle of the shopping district, right next to a fountain that, winter as it is, isn't functional, there's Constance -- looking particularly dismayed, her breathing making small clouds in the air, journal in her hand as she's writing a message.
It seems I've been detained by one of those little plants, and will be so until someone else comes by, please excuse my lateness; directed to both Anne and Sebastian, the two that might be expecting her back by now, Sebastian to their shared job, Anne because she never starts any shifts at the hotel reception without first checking up on Her Majesty.
That done, she closes the journal, huffing as she draws her cloak better around her shoulders.]
Now it's just waiting... lovely. [Her tone makes it obvious it's anything but that. Help??]