Room 522, Thursday Evening
Some people got care packages from home with cookies and things in them. Stephanie had -- okay, a batch of muffins from Alfred, which was nice of him, and a few odds and ends from Cass that made her grin for reasons she didn't think she could explain to anyone who hadn't been within earshot on their numerous rooftop sparring sessions (so basically no one in Fandom).
And a huge stack of reading material from Bruce: archived news articles, dry legal histories of Gotham City, case studies, and so on. Junior-detective learning time never ended, it seemed.
At least she had the muffins to make the reading less dull. (She'd do it anyway, even sans muffins; she had to keep up to standards, after all.) Oh, and a comfy pillow-nest on the bed to curl up in, and she'd just deal with the muffin crumbs later.
[OOC: Door cracked, post open, phone lines and voicemail box open . . . *shifty* May be SPish until I get home, as usual.]
And a huge stack of reading material from Bruce: archived news articles, dry legal histories of Gotham City, case studies, and so on. Junior-detective learning time never ended, it seemed.
At least she had the muffins to make the reading less dull. (She'd do it anyway, even sans muffins; she had to keep up to standards, after all.) Oh, and a comfy pillow-nest on the bed to curl up in, and she'd just deal with the muffin crumbs later.
[OOC: Door cracked, post open, phone lines and voicemail box open . . . *shifty* May be SPish until I get home, as usual.]