Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [09/16].

[howareyanow]

Wayne already got up at stupid o'clock in the morning, out of habit more'n anything else, since it wasn't like he had a whole lot of chorin' to do around here, but he'd gotten up just a bit earlier than usual to prep for this week's breakfast. He'd gotten that bug in his brain about maybe mixing things up a little bit, and the omelettes he'd make as he went along, but the quiches he was planning on making would take some doing, and he wanted to make sure they were ready by the time people usually started showing up for breakfast.

Sometimes, it was okay to make some alterations to tradition; helped keep it from getting boring. But it had also been pointed out to him that some things shouldn't be deviated from, and he couldn't agree more, so there were also plenty of pancakes on the way, as well. It officially couldn't be Monday Morning Breakfast without pancakes.

This time around, though, he was taking some of those rainbow sprinkles you put on ice cream and sprinkling them onto the pancakes as he poured them, to make them fun and colorful. Sure, Nina might not have appreciated the purple pancakes as much as he'd thought she might, but Delirium had, and so the sprinkles were mostly for her.

So there.

[[ oh, if it's breakfast, it's open ]]

Comments

[howareyanow]

"Tisarwat." Wayne nodded, finished up the pancake he was working on, set aside the pan off the burner for a second, so that he could toss back the rest of what remained of his coffee in his puppy mug so that he could then go over to where she'd settled in the couch for some of that tea. He didn't mind a cuppa every so often, after all, and hers had been pretty good last week, as far he could tell. "How are ya now?"

[lilac_eyed_lieutenant]

Tisarwat looked up at Wayne and the mug he held out a little witheringly, as if she couldn't believe he'd expected her to just ignore the fact that there were still traces of coffee lining the inside of it, which was guaranteed to ruin the tea she'd made. But he was looking at her expectantly (which she spared a glance of worry toward the stove and all that food he was abandoning, with flashbacks from last night; the longer she took, the more likely something might start burning, although Wayne seemed to know what he was doing), and so she, feeling a small part of her soul die (unfortunately not more of her dying with it), tipped the flask and filled the mug with tea.

"Well enough," she answered, "thank you. How are you this morning?"