Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [03/16].

[howareyanow]

No amount of blanket forts and hot cocoa and adorable stuffed German shepherd plushies (of which there were several just hanging out in the third floor common room that morning, and also one very familiar lifesized pitbull mix plush that was never leaving Wayne's side if he could help it) could excuse the fact that Wayne had called this travesty, and he was not going to be happy about it.

Because he came in, he made breakfast, just as normal, just as you please, and all the pancakes looked like pancakes, the bacon looked like bacon, the eggs, the potatoes, the fruit...all looked like they should, but none of it tasted like it should. And it wasn't consistent, either. Sometimes it was the pancakes that tasted like sausage. Sometimes, it was the eggs that tasted like coffee, and then then the eggs turned around and tasted like toast with strawberry jam on it.

The coffee tastin' like pancakes with syrup wasn't too bad, he had to admit, but it was the principle of the matter, and the fact that he tolt Nina she was jus' settin' 'em up for exactly this thing.

And so it was a very grumble-muttery Wayne at the stove that morning...

...although it was hard to be too grumble-muttery when surrounded by adorable plushy pups, too.

[[ open breakfast is ooooopen! ]]