Fourth floor common room, Sunday morning

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

Dean was in the kitchen making breakfast for whoever happened by as he occasionally was wont to do. Hunter was with him, stalking across the back of the sofa and sniffing curiously inbetween the cushions. The tv, thankfully had been dispossessed of whatever weirdness that had had it playing pirate porn the night before and Dean had it tuned to nothing more provocative than some music videos.

All in all it was a fairly cheerful morning.

[OOC: free breakfast for any who wants it.]