"Ugh!", Goldie moans silently in frustration from the slight debacle.
But what other choice had she got? Getting changed in the janitor's closet was her best, safest and most readily available option.
There was nowhere else half as private as this closet.
And Goldie would not dare go walking around the halls with her visibly uneven back; with her wings still vigorously twitching and struggling to break loose from the tight hold of her ripped white shirt.
Already, her white shirt was ripping at the side more and more with the movement of the wings, and it would only be a matter of time before it gives way, allowing them to continue their vigorous fluttering.
Venturing back out into the halls to search for some other non-existent hiding spot that would be safer than the janitor's closet would be far too risky, and borderline foolish.
Whatever the case, she had to make do with this.