(no subject)
rosencrantz had been saving up butcher paper for just such an occasion. mind you, he couldn't have you told at you the time what just such an occasion was, or what it would look like -- but certainly he was saving it up for something, and certainly now that he can use it, there's something he's saved it up for. that's why this afternoon, after spending the morning poking through what's left of the kitchen (and not even burning it down), he takes his butcher paper, he takes his markers, he takes his plate of freshly made cupcakes and he sits down in the common room with them.
"ike mother's day, you know," he explains, to anyone who might be passing by. "i'd learnt just last week, about mother's day. and it's only natural, isn't it? that we ought to give something to her -- since she gives nearly everything to us -- something we've made ourselves. i made her cupcakes! and a pinwheel --"
indeed he did -- it's lying next to the cupcakes, and has got ribbons on it and everything.
"i do hope she likes the pinwheel."
"ike mother's day, you know," he explains, to anyone who might be passing by. "i'd learnt just last week, about mother's day. and it's only natural, isn't it? that we ought to give something to her -- since she gives nearly everything to us -- something we've made ourselves. i made her cupcakes! and a pinwheel --"
indeed he did -- it's lying next to the cupcakes, and has got ribbons on it and everything.
"i do hope she likes the pinwheel."