It's darker than it was a few minutes ago.

Shadows seem to be gathering at an alarming rate, pooling together until it almost seems that they're wrapped around something tall, something solid, something that steps out of the shadows without even a flicker of surprise or hesitation.

The darkness gives Haibara's slight form the suggestion of height and odd angles, playing havoc with reality as it reflects something that doesn't exist -- or does it? The shadows shifting across her face and body make it hard to distinguish what is real and what is fearful imagination. Rust coloured stains are momentarily visible against the dirty white of the labcoat; and are those fingers or claws that reach curiously for the door handle before her?

Haibara's head turns before she reaches the doorhandle and without turning her face away from her object she replaces her hands in the pockets of her labcoat and starts to walk down the corridor. Her steps are measured, unhurried; she knows exactly what she's looking for and where to find it.