Sound of keys turning in the lock of the student apartment. The door opens and Noa walks in dragging her feet, backpack on her shoulder, still wearing her dance practice uniform. "Adri... I'm dead. The choreographer made us repeat the routine like fifteen times in a row." She drops her backpack on the floor by the door and stretches, arching her back with her eyes closed. "Are you home? I need a shower and then to crash on the sofa with you and watch something..." Her voice sounds tired but affectionate, like someone arriving at their safe place after a long day.