(no subject)
Ruth Fisher was livid.
Her cookbooks were suddenly scattered on the floor of the rec room, a disaster of Betty Crocker and Junior League, crumpled recipes and a handwritten menu. She had nearly tripped herself in her haste, springing from her chair with a small radio clutched in one hand.
Honestly, she didn't care how late it was. She understood all about freedom of the press, but there were lines for a reason. Actually, Ruth didn't give a damn about being level-headed. From the moment that woman had opened her mouth, Ruth's face had been reddening in increasing amounts, so that by the time she made it to the hall she looked downright purple.
Ruth Fisher was not overreacting, but she was going to speak with someone, even if she had to start beating down doors.
[OOC: Set directly after Maureen's broadcast. Tag her anywhere in the compound. Be warned, Ruth is a little scary when she's angry.]
Her cookbooks were suddenly scattered on the floor of the rec room, a disaster of Betty Crocker and Junior League, crumpled recipes and a handwritten menu. She had nearly tripped herself in her haste, springing from her chair with a small radio clutched in one hand.
Honestly, she didn't care how late it was. She understood all about freedom of the press, but there were lines for a reason. Actually, Ruth didn't give a damn about being level-headed. From the moment that woman had opened her mouth, Ruth's face had been reddening in increasing amounts, so that by the time she made it to the hall she looked downright purple.
Ruth Fisher was not overreacting, but she was going to speak with someone, even if she had to start beating down doors.
[OOC: Set directly after Maureen's broadcast. Tag her anywhere in the compound. Be warned, Ruth is a little scary when she's angry.]