Third Floor Common Room, Late Saturday Night

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It had been a terribly long day, but Eleanor couldn't sleep. The excitement from traveling five time zones and four decades, perhaps, or the nervous energy from not being on the run for the first time in days. She wasn't sure how to relax, and had wandered into some sort of communal space.

She hadn't watched television in years, although she hadn't realized the surface had quite so many channels. There had to be something on, with this many channels, didn't there?

And so, it was around midnight, and Eleanor Lamb was watching a program quite inexplicably titled OCTO ER. It seemed to be fashioned around the lives and times of a number of cepholopods working in a deep marine emergency room, though the plot seemed less concerned with medical emergencies than it did which octopodes were having carnal relations with each other.

Octopodes? Octopi? Maybe she'd wait for the show to mention it, and see which term was canonical.

(SO SO OPEN. Someone teach this girl that soapy dramas require popcorn! OCTO ER 4EVA. Idea hatched from a particularly hilarious typo to furnaceface back in, erm, October.)