[attr="class","spiral"]The last of the moving vans rumble down the street and away from Amalia's apartment, seen off by a lazy wave and a muttered "thanks" before she turns around to look in through the door. Boxes line the floor, pile up to the ceiling in places. Furniture lays in the proximity of where it will eventually settle.

She knows she should get to putting on the final touches. Push her bookcase into place, pull her couch to a more central place in the living room, etc. Maybe unload some boxes (but probably not, more likely than not most of them will stay full until she finds need for their contents). Amalia knows this, but dammit if she's going to do it.

At least for now.

There's more interesting things to get a start on; and with the sun just starting to set now is the perfect time. She throws a dark coat over her cream turtleneck and brushes down her jeans with her hands before slipping on her boots and walking out the door.

As she crosses the threshold a weight settles on her leg. Slight but noticeable; and while she walks out onto the street she feels it climb and climb. Up her calves, to her thighs, 'round her butt, and across her back to her shoulder before it settles with a soft "huff" in her hair.

"Pleidas, I told you to stop climbing up like this. Ask and I'll pick you up," she scolds her Cleffa lightly, reaching into the breast pocket of her jacket to pull out a pair of sunglasses. Despite the impending dark of night she slips them onto her face and then pushes them up into her hair. She just feels naked without them.

"While you're up there, keep an eye out. See if you can't find me a poor soul to bother," Amalia instructs before beginning to scan the quiet town herself, "I need directions."