Far away from the drama of the various weddings and dramatic reveals, Cara emerged from a sunset-lit swim in Selkie Lake, (which certainly didn't look like a sound-stage to account for the fact it was actually too cold to shoot on location this time of year) the camera lingering on her as she walked up the shore and made her way to her private chalet nestled on the lower slopes of Selkie Peak.

Once inside, she left the doors and windows ajar to let in the freezing brisk evening air as she went to change into the kind of strappy evening wear that people totally wore when relaxing (or plotting) in chalets.

[Open!]

It was the quiet that woke Cara up. The Mason household was never this quiet of a morning. Even when she'd finally gotten the room to herself after Grace had married, it was exceedingly rare not to be woken by any of the dozens of everyday sounds she'd grown up with.

Of course, when she actually opened her eyes, and noticed little things like the walls being bare plaster instead of hanging covered wood, and the large window, made of glass no less, it became obvious why the usual household noises were missing. "Father? Mother?" she called out, hoping for a response that was not forthcoming. Smoothing down her hideous dress, she padded over to the door to peek outside. Just in case it was only her room that had changed.

Not so much luck there.

She was distracted enough by how different her room was to how it should be, let alone the fact it was obviously not attached to her home, that she managed to miss the leathers carefully draped over the back of a chair. Fortunately. Finding those would have done Cara's peace of mind no good at all.

[ooc: open door, open post.]

After a solid month of nearly unbroken repression, numbness and apathy it should have been a good sign that Cara actually felt something when she woke up this morning, but when that something was utter mortification with a good dash of confusion thrown in, she couldn't get back to pushing things back down into emotional white noise fast enough.

A bank. She thought she was a bank. She'd developed a random accent, tried to convince people to invest in her, and she was quite sure she'd been mistaken for a whore. More than once. Though at least she'd had the presence of mind to kick Nathan in the gut.

Even if she should have aimed lower.

[ooc: establishy]

RaboPlus woke alone, which was an unusual state of affairs. But there was no time to ponder, after all she was a bank with a mission! A mission to find people dissatisfied with their current, boring banks and provide them with an alternative. A fun bank, a bank on the side. There were people out there who needed her!

Leaving a note with her (incredibly attractive) interest rates for the missing occupant of the room, RaboPlus went in search of new customers.

[OOC: So Cara's a bank now. Banks are cool.]