Fifth Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning

[thewrathofkaan]

It was really a shame that no one had ever taught Roscoe to cook. He had been raised to believe that take-out was the most practical and delicious choice, so at fifteen, he now found that anything more complicated than a sandwich was out of his depth.

To his credit, he tried. Today his experiment du jour was simply an attempt at scrambled eggs. And twenty minutes and lots of dirty dishes later, he was sitting on the couch eating cold pizza he had found in the fridge. So... you could pretty much guess how that had gone.

Pizza was better anyway.