Room 407, Saturday Morning
Even at age five, Claire Fisher wasn't the type to bound out of bed.
Several minutes after her eyes had opened and she had pulled carefully away from the other child in the bed to sit up quietly, she was still just sitting there and making thoughtful little shadow puppets against the wall. Most of them were bunnies, though she managed a deformed cat and something that, to her mind, looked like an entirely satisfactory turtle.
She wanted breakfast, though. Still a little dreamy, she prodded the figure next to her. "Caaaaaal. Cal. D'you have cereal?"
[OOC: For the modded-with-permission wee person.]
Several minutes after her eyes had opened and she had pulled carefully away from the other child in the bed to sit up quietly, she was still just sitting there and making thoughtful little shadow puppets against the wall. Most of them were bunnies, though she managed a deformed cat and something that, to her mind, looked like an entirely satisfactory turtle.
She wanted breakfast, though. Still a little dreamy, she prodded the figure next to her. "Caaaaaal. Cal. D'you have cereal?"
[OOC: For the modded-with-permission wee person.]