Open
Most of the time, Gert could be found in her room, headphones on and a book in front of her face. More often that not Old Lace would be curled on the floor beside her because Gert treated the projection of her own mind more like a cat than an over-the-top psychology experiment. She would pet the top of the dinosaur's head, and Old Lace would make a sound that was almost like purring but could startle newcomers into thinking she was growling and preparing to eat their liver. Old Lace had never eaten any livers. If anything she was partial to skin cells and would occasionally lick people, especially Gert, when she was in a good mood.
Old Lace was in a restless mood, though, and rather than just call her back into her own mind, Gert had relented and left her room. Instead they were sitting in the Common Area of the dorm. Gert was sitting cross legged on one of the chairs, her book open on the table and Old Lace's head in her lap. The slight growling sigh of Old Lace's breathing as she slept filled the room. Gert could see how other people might find it distracting, but it sounded like home to her.