[Quicklog]

[Fred was sitting up against the headboard of her bed, legs curled under her, journal open in her lap. She honestly didn't feel too terrible--just like she had no energy, and catching her breath was proving a little difficult. She might have actually thought she was ill, except she currently felt hungrier than any sick person had a right to be. Indeed, she couldn't remember ever feeling this hungry before; it was an entirely new sensation. She would have to eat something soon, but she just couldn't seem to summon the energy to get up.

When she heard Youth's voice she looked up, frowning. She hadn't heard a knock on the door... actually, now that she thought about it, her hearing seemed a little... dull. Strange. Was it just her imagination?] I am in my room, Youth. Come in.