Comfort food
Abby hated hurricanes. She hated hurricanes like she hated scary ex-boyfriends, double-crossing Mossad agents, and her friends or family getting hurt. She would blame it on Katrina or the hurricane they'd had on the island a couple years ago, but it wasn't just those specific events. She just disliked the feeling of not being able to do anything but hide from something. She wasn't the hiding-out type, and she never had been. She liked doing things, fixing things, and there was nothing to do in a hurricane except wait. She'd moved up to the compound as soon as she started to recognize the signs, and since they were so crowded she was sleeping in the lab, which was not exactly the most comfortable place, but it wasn't bad either. The girls and Neil and Mike and Tom were safe here, as were most of the people she cared about, so all things considered, it could be worse.
She still hated hurricanes.
To keep her mind off the hurricane, and because it was definitely needed considering the larger number of people in the compound, she was cooking. She'd made enough biscuits to feed a company of hungry Marines and was still going. She'd just pulled a pan out of the oven, in fact, and was letting it cool while she cut out the next batch, working quickly, efficiently, and with flour on her nose.
When in doubt, distract herself. It worked wonders.
[Tags to Abby until Wednesday the 15th or otherwise stated. Tag Abby, tag each other, eat biscuits.]
She still hated hurricanes.
To keep her mind off the hurricane, and because it was definitely needed considering the larger number of people in the compound, she was cooking. She'd made enough biscuits to feed a company of hungry Marines and was still going. She'd just pulled a pan out of the oven, in fact, and was letting it cool while she cut out the next batch, working quickly, efficiently, and with flour on her nose.
When in doubt, distract herself. It worked wonders.
[Tags to Abby until Wednesday the 15th or otherwise stated. Tag Abby, tag each other, eat biscuits.]