Third Floor Common Room, Sunday Morning

[regulationslacker]

It was a sign of how discombobulated Mariner was that she hadn't even tried to find the nearest bar last night instead heading straight to her assigned quarters, but now she needed information, and food, and caffeine. And not in that order.

Once she'd found the common area she spent several minutes examining the primitive replicator before realising it wasn't even a replicator at all, but an even more primitive food reheater. After fighting with the other, equally retro appliances, she'd mostly given up in despair, even if she'd managed to eke out something resembling a drinkable cup of coffee.

How could people live like this?

[Open!]

Comments

[mustbeawitch]

It wasn't as if Lydia wasn't familiar with getting herself ready for the day--there had been no maids or sisters to help her in London, or in Newcastle--but she supposed she had gotten used to help again since entering Miss Lambe's employ, as this morning had been a bit of a struggle. Still, she had managed it, and now she was desperately in search of a cup of tea. This place seemed like her best chance yet, between the fact that there was another person in it and she could smell, ugh, coffee.

"Good morning," she said to the other occupant of the room. "I don't suppose there's any tea?" Please, God, let there be tea.

[regulationslacker]

"Oh, hey," Mariner said with a wave of her mug. "I think I saw some bags near the kettle."

Though she seemed to recall that people who didn't replicate their tea seemed to get kind of fussy about it. Even more than Vulcans did, and they had being precise about tea down to a science.

[mustbeawitch]

"...bags?" Lydia asked. Context clues led her to guess, "Of tea?" She supposed there was no reason you couldn't put tea into a bag, and she was entirely capable of recognizing a kettle on sight, so...aha! A paper box which purported to contain tea. In bags. "Oh, that's rather clever, actually."

[regulationslacker]

Mariner took another sip of the delicious caffeine and sugar sludge that was the result of far too many packs of instant. "Sometimes you gotta make do with what you got."

When you were trapped in a pre-post-scarcity capitalistic hellscape.

[mustbeawitch]

"Now, let's see..." Lydia mused to herself. She opened the door to what was recognizably a stove and observed, "No fire." In fact, it didn't look like there had ever been a fire in it, although it certainly wasn't new. She didn't see any wood anywhere, either. "Do you know how to make this thing hot?"

Since she hailed from the pre-electricity version of the hellscape and all.

[regulationslacker]

See, Mariner would have been able to cope with no electricity, Starfleet survival training covered that. It was just this inbetween bullshit that had her stumped.

"Oh, yeah, that I figured out," she said, dramatically pushing the on switch.