Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [09/09].

[howareyanow]

Two weeks in a row now, Wayne woke up, got dressed, checked his hawkey fights online, and then headed down to the common room to start making up Monday Morning Breakfast without anything strange or untoward happening. He opened the fridge and found everything precisely as it should be, waiting for him to get to work and get crackin'.

Well.

Except the milk.

"Fuck a duck."

It was purple. Purple. Not even blue, like Lana's weird alien blue milk, but honest-to-God purple. Wayne made a little disconsolate sound in the back of his throat, because he knew milk weren't exposed to be purple, but it smelled alright. It tasted alright. He waited a moment or two to make sure it didn't make him grow a tail or give him spots or make him think he was the Queen of Fucking England or nothing like that, and, for all intents and purposes, it seemed like just regular old milk.

Only purple.

He planned on using it sparingly, but he did sort of wonder if the girls might actually like that it made the pancakes look just a little bit prettier this week.

[[ and it's open! Breakfast time! Come'n'get it ]]