Third Floor Common Room, Late Saturday Morning

[seveninchmotto]

There was oatmeal on the counter in the common room, and it looked fine. Just perfectly normal, as oatmeal should. You shouldn't be fooled, though. Isabelle had experimented with some spices there – you know, to just make it better, just in general, as you do when you're an enthusiastic amateur cook – and the end result, well, it wasn't great. At all.

As usual.

Isabelle herself was on a couch, using her phone to check out potential ideas for what she might want to do for her upcoming birthday.

Oh, and she was having cereal. Maybe that should have been a warning sign about the oatmeal.

[ooc: Open! It is never too early or late to meet Izzy or find out she can't cook. Also, entertain me. ... Now in the right place.]

Fifth Floor Common Room, Saturday evening

[craftyladyparts.livejournal.com]

Jessica had spent the entire day training in an abandoned warehouse where certain people who actually called themselves "Girl" instead of something even slightly less childish might not find her. Once that was done, she figured she could actually take a night off, so she settled into the common room and ordered food.

Before long she was set up with way more Thai food than she could eat herself and figure skating on the TV. She didn't really care about figure skating, but hey, it was pre-Olympics stuff. Somebody might care. She was mostly using that as background noise while she worked out the math of how the hell delivery places on the island made any amount of money if they always over-delivered.

Just ignore all of the numbers scribbled on the napkins, and it might look like a sane person was in the common room tonight.

[OOC: Open CR!]