When sorrows come, they come not single spies...but in battalions PV Sinclair Carver Finished

The creaking door of the bathroom betrayed Sinclair's usually quiet presence. She had half the mind to cast the slippery jinx on the hinges, or as her father jokingly exclaimed over the summer about the Carver farm gates, "I cast WD-40!"
The bathroom today is a quiet refuge from the general hub-bub of school life, save from the usual odd groaning of centuries-old pipes and drips of water echoing through the high vaulted ceilings. The fact that it offered a cooler environment in the September heat was a bonus in Sinclair's book.

Syrah would freeze to death here. That blonde Slytherin flit into her mind for a moment, only to be forcefully pushed out as she walked towards the sink, reminding herself why she was here. Sinclair's fingers rubbed together, feeling the remnants of damp soil and grime as her eyes took note of the figure by the mirror. It was not abnormal to find someone in the bathroom, and so without much thought Sinclair approached the sink, making sure to keep distance to the girl with what she considered healthy personal boundaries. The coldness of the metal pierced her skin as she turned the faucet on, gentle icy water stiffening the tendons in her hands. Another curious glance towards the figure a few steps away from her painted the image of someone who seemed to have come here to be alone. Sinclair remains silent and minds her own business, watching her own uncaring, mundane expression in the lightly desilvered mirror.

There came a question. And when Sinclair was too busy wondering why this was even asked, the girl's voice filled the silence again. She pressed the soap dispenser- only to find it was broken. Why the dispenser was there in the first place was unknown to Sinclair. Her lips purse, fingers dripping in a cold mixture of water and bits of dirt.

She chose not to answer the first question for now, but it was only polite to answer with one's name when prompted. "Sinclair Carver," she answers with a neutral glance, maybe even forced a polite curl of the lips. Despite her gaze seeming a little empty, her cold light hazel eyes seemed to look at the girl with an intensity as if she knew everything about her. That was far from the truth, though. The girl's social circle was small, if not non-existent. She fishes her wand out and points at her own hand, "Scourgify." Soapy bubbles start to form on her hand, and after tucking away her wand, she washes her hands properly. The gryffindor did not seem to converse, finding it unnecessary to speak to a total stranger. Beyond the brief curiosity when she came in, Sinclair did not seem to have too much of a drive to connect, let alone make small talk.
"...I'm fine," she finally decides to answer. Whether that was the truth or what Sinclair believed was anyone's guess. "Do you need soap?" She asked simply, not sure if the girl knew the spell or not.

Ravenclaw, second year.
Sinclair would've responded, had the girl not blurted out her prideful comment. The Gryffindor's expression grows just a little colder, distant. Out of the corner of her eyes she observes whatever Korinna was doing... only to hear her mutter an incantation that didn't quite sound right. A slight concern, probably more for her own safety than Korinna's, panged in Sinclair's chest. She hoped whatever her peer was doing did not end up in some kind of magical accident due to the mispronunciation...

It seemed that nothing happened, though.

"Don't worry about it," Sinclair said plainly, void of any warmth- merely pushing out words for the sake of responding. Yet, these words were of truth. In her mind she herself did not really care, and so thought that Korinna didn't have a reason to either.

In Sinclair's eyes, the Ravenclaw clearly didn't know the incantation, and she was unbothered to help. A brief thought flickered through her mind- maybe she'll use scourgify again, and say it clearer this time so she could at least demonstrate it for them without being too overt...all in order to protect this Ravenclaw's pride. But another little part of her was a little annoyed that she was snapped at. Even if she hadn't been snapped at, why should she help? Why protect their pride? They'd said they didn't need soap anyway. Regardless of if there was an apology or not, and unless directly asked, the Gryffindor had zero attachment or reason to help her. She continues to scrub underneath her nails thoroughly- the mess she'd found her hands in earlier proved to be tough to clean.

Slowly, a cold, unwelcoming feeling starts to linger in the silence between the two.

Sinclair's eyes watched Korinna as if daring them to finish their sentence...

Not use a soap dispenser like some what? Hm?

Even if it turned out being unsaid, it was obvious to Sinclair what the Ravenclaw had thought initially. But, even so, the way Korinna defended herself and tried to explain why she acted a bit snappy just made Sinclair feel a little awkward. She ignores the little hints of tears on the other student's face. People cry. It isn't because of her, so right now it's probably a private matter and none of her business.

"If you care so much about how others perceive you, you might want to be better at controlling your emotions, or managing whatever you think as a weakness," she says calmly, rinsing the last of the soap away, "But, you did not hurt me, it was just... a little uncalled for," for a brief second, Sinclair forces a little smile as if it could ease the tension. She directs her wand at Korinna's hands, "The incantation is scourgify," she demonstrates, bubbles forming on their hands, "I read ahead at the beginning of the year. Don't punish yourself for not doing the same; it is not expected of you." Her words, though to-the-point and not exactly what one typically thinks is comforting, was genuine and well intentioned.

Sinclair kind of wanted to be left alone. She had come here to wash her hands and be done with it, not strike up a conversation with a stranger she didn't quite care for. She didn't know this person, she did not trust this person, and after several losses she'd experienced over summer, she simply had no room in her empty little heart to care. The gryffindor had unfortunately built walls around herself, and as the conversation grew longer, she found herself adding more bricks to that wall in her mind's eye.

"Aer Calidus," she muttered, casting the hot air charm on her hands to dry them. Upon hearing more questions, Sinclair sighs silently through her nose, but responds calmly nonetheless, "Second year, Gryffindor. I'm just reading the textbooks we're supposed to use this year. You should have a list." The gryffindor feels the conversation to be incredibly dry and draining, even more so when everything constantly felt chaotic around her. The little sanctuary she hoped to get in the quiet bathroom of course, didn't happen. Slightly irritated, Sinclair's expression turns unreadable. Without skipping a beat she pockets her wand and turns to face Korinna. "Look Korinna... I really only came in here to wash my hands. I hope you feel better, but I'm going to go now," her tone of voice is polite, but her words are curt, as if she doesn't make room for objections.