Edogawa Conan, age thirteen, (otherwise known as Kudo Shinichi, age twenty-three) is now in the DR. And he does not look amused.

"Oi, Heiji!" He shouted, as he walked down the hall. "If this is your idea of some surprise, you have ten seconds to come out or I'm kicking a soccer ball at your head! I told you, me sleeping does NOT give you permission to carry me like a sack of potatoes where you please!"

Oh, he is not amused at all.

[There is a loud ruckus coming from the kitchen. The clattering of dishes against the counter, the refrigerator opening and closing, and the cabinet doors crashing as someone searches through them frantically can be heard from all the way down the hall.

Anyone who peeks their head in to investigate the cacophony will be able to see two creatures digging through the refrigerator. One looks like your average Kaito Kuroba, who is humming a cheerful tune to himself as he sifts through the food. The other is a strange tapir looking... thing, whose ears are flickering with each sound.

Soooomeone must be hungry, as the duo doesn't seem to notice the mess of dishes and food they've spread across the counter. Looks like they haven't actually started cooking yet]

"KAITO!" And there's a Conan, one who looks to be about eleven, shouting in the DR.

"Bastard, I know you're nearby! This is getting old!"

He's a very irritated Conan at that. He's standing in the lobby, looking around at all those little nooks and crannies that any Kaito would just love to hide in to avoid someone who isn't quite used to tracking down his hiding spot.

It's been almost a week since Shinichi and 1412 renewed their acquaintance, a week in which barely a lightbulb has shorted, the only doors to swing open on their own account have been prompted by the wind, and the amount of spectral activity about the dressing room has reduce dramatically.

The study has been quiet, the novels collecting dust, the notebook on the desk going unopened. The memorial tablet still looks as fresh as ever, thanks to the efforts of its visitors, but the rest of the room has a sadly neglected feel.

Until now.

Now --

There's something there.

*After his fight with 1412 Kaito is in the infirmary. The door is locked, since he had to take his shirt off to get to the cut on his arm. Other than the cut, he came out of the fight without injury. Instead he's just shaken and a bit sick from the adrenaline and his thoughts.

Once he's done properly disinfecting and bandaging his arm, he sighs and slumps against the couch. Shirt still off. If anyone comes knocking he can just put it on before he unlocks the door after all.*

((The door might be locked, but that doesn't mean someone might find a way in, or he'll just let someone in if they knock. Come bother him?))

[After her run-in with Shinichi's ghost, Aoko can be found in the first floor infirmary, going through the cabinets slowly. The sleeves of her sweater are rolled up to reveal a series of small cuts decorating her lower arm. They aren't bad enough to be alarming, but they do warrant some attention.

Oh, and she's mumbling shakily to herself]

A ghost... a ghost! I can't believe I ran into a real, live-- dead ghost! [one of the cabinets is slammed shut]

Mou... ghosts aren't supposed to be real. [she huffs in irritation]

Where is that rubbing alcohol?

"This....is not Kyoto."

Aoko is standing in front of a room she had walked out of. Though it wasn't really out of the room, but what she had thought was the front entrance of the airport. She even had a back pck and roll away luggage with her.

This Aoko looks a bit older. About twenty-seven. She's rather calm, despite her surprise at the new surroundingss. She looks around, studying her surroundings. An observant person might notice she's looking just a bit too long at things, really studying them and taking them in.

And her calm demeanor might be ruined in the fact of how tense her shoulders are.

"...hello?"

[this Hakuba looks to be in his early twenties or thereabouts. Coupled with his confused expression, you'd presume he was a new arrival to the dressing room]

Kaito?

[the corridor is unfamiliar to him, as is the room behind, his hand still on the doorknob of the door]

...Eight?

[a longer pause, and he closes the door quietly behind him, letting go of the doorknob to begin walking down the corridor]