Not that surprising, she supposes. She closes off her floor pretty frequently, so if anyone needs her for anything, they’d be forced to come to her door, like a normal person. She sets the trousers she was in the middle of folding to the side and stands, grabbing the small clock she keeps on the coffee table to peer at it, trying to discern a time. 9:50-something? Not too late that the intrusion is annoying.