Imogen

You open the door into the camp counsellors lounge, and see Imogen jump and jolt in surprise. She’s lying sprawled out on the couch, blushing so hard you can hardly see her freckles. She quickly adjusts the shoulder straps of her shirt which had fallen down, and whips something wet on her hand off on her shorts. “H-hey, what’re you doing here?” She sounds slightly out of breath, and her chest is rising and falling as if she’d just been running.