Room 415, Saturday Afternoon
Typical sort of Saturday, for the most part: her workout, a call to her Watcher, a shower, and some downtime, except for the part where the call had been really short and left Kennedy scowling slightly at her phone. If Kennedy didn't know better-- if she wasn't so convinced that Constance was too, well, Constance to ever freak out about anything-- she'd have sworn her Watcher was hiding out from something. From what? Well, hell if she knew, since knowing anything at all would involve getting some freaking information.
Which was so not happening ("Everything is fine, nothing to worry about" was not helpful), and if Kennedy thought something seriously bad might be going on she'd be worrying, or maybe trying to book a portal home. But there was nothing she could dig up that hinted there was cause for that kind of concern, at least from the news sources she could get to. Because, really? About the weirdest thing on the Sunnydale news websites she'd been perusing was a two-paragraph blurb about understaffing problems in the psych ward, and that seemed to have been going on for a while, so... couldn't have a thing to do with anything, right?
She turned up some music, dug around in her nightstand drawer for a book, and glanced at her laptop screen as if some new tidbit of information might have just randomly popped up all by itself while she'd been looking the other way. Nope-- the online edition of the UC Sunnydale paper was still there in her browser window, the same announcement about next week's multicultural fair in the lower right corner.
Oh, well. Reading it was; Kennedy got up long enough to prop the door open and grab the box of doughnuts she'd picked up this morning, then sprawled back out on her bed with her book. At least with a mystery novel, you knew for sure that something weird was going on.
[[establishy/time-tracky, but door and post are open and i am a horrible person. who also has errands to run so sp likely until around 4pm pacific.]]
Which was so not happening ("Everything is fine, nothing to worry about" was not helpful), and if Kennedy thought something seriously bad might be going on she'd be worrying, or maybe trying to book a portal home. But there was nothing she could dig up that hinted there was cause for that kind of concern, at least from the news sources she could get to. Because, really? About the weirdest thing on the Sunnydale news websites she'd been perusing was a two-paragraph blurb about understaffing problems in the psych ward, and that seemed to have been going on for a while, so... couldn't have a thing to do with anything, right?
She turned up some music, dug around in her nightstand drawer for a book, and glanced at her laptop screen as if some new tidbit of information might have just randomly popped up all by itself while she'd been looking the other way. Nope-- the online edition of the UC Sunnydale paper was still there in her browser window, the same announcement about next week's multicultural fair in the lower right corner.
Oh, well. Reading it was; Kennedy got up long enough to prop the door open and grab the box of doughnuts she'd picked up this morning, then sprawled back out on her bed with her book. At least with a mystery novel, you knew for sure that something weird was going on.
[[establishy/time-tracky, but door and post are open and i am a horrible person. who also has errands to run so sp likely until around 4pm pacific.]]