Open Rp: in the Hospital wing
((For any characters who have the need to go there))
Agnes sat on a chair, quietly contemplating things. Like bed pans. Bed pans were possibly the most useless things in the entire universe, they're only there to destroy the patient's dignity, and even at that, they always miss. She would describe it as being sadistic, if she knew what it meant. Of course, on sheer principle, Agnes wasn't quietly contemplating anything, more loudly arguing with concepts in her head. She'd been in a bad mood for the last few weeks, and it still hadn't improved, and on top of that, nobody had been respectibly maimed at the school in days. How was she supposed to enjoy her work when all she got was teenagers arriving to ask how not to get pregnant? Even the girls she could stand, barely, but whn boys asked how they could avoid getting pregnant, she drew the line. I mean, did they have any common sense these days? In her day, all boys knew they couldn't get pregnant unless they drank from the right potion or cast the right spell. Or had an unfortunate incident with a sharp object in their nether regions.
So Agnes sat, loudly arguing things in her head, and drank her tea menacingly (Well, menacingly from the tea's point of view most likely), and ate a biscuit. In a suitably dark manner of course.
Agnes sat on a chair, quietly contemplating things. Like bed pans. Bed pans were possibly the most useless things in the entire universe, they're only there to destroy the patient's dignity, and even at that, they always miss. She would describe it as being sadistic, if she knew what it meant. Of course, on sheer principle, Agnes wasn't quietly contemplating anything, more loudly arguing with concepts in her head. She'd been in a bad mood for the last few weeks, and it still hadn't improved, and on top of that, nobody had been respectibly maimed at the school in days. How was she supposed to enjoy her work when all she got was teenagers arriving to ask how not to get pregnant? Even the girls she could stand, barely, but whn boys asked how they could avoid getting pregnant, she drew the line. I mean, did they have any common sense these days? In her day, all boys knew they couldn't get pregnant unless they drank from the right potion or cast the right spell. Or had an unfortunate incident with a sharp object in their nether regions.
So Agnes sat, loudly arguing things in her head, and drank her tea menacingly (Well, menacingly from the tea's point of view most likely), and ate a biscuit. In a suitably dark manner of course.