Room 223, Tuesday Evening.
It was simple, really. One moment, Tara was paging through a cheesy novel and eating chips while she tried to distract herself from the fact she'd kissed Kennedy goodbye and sent her off to stop an orgy. (Seriously. An orgy?)
The next, Tara the guinea pig was nosing inside the half-empty bag of chips and getting crumbs of potato and oil all over her fur.
It was probably sort of adorable. And, hey, at least Tara wasn't a violet this year. Sentience was a step up.
[OOC: Establishy!]
The next, Tara the guinea pig was nosing inside the half-empty bag of chips and getting crumbs of potato and oil all over her fur.
It was probably sort of adorable. And, hey, at least Tara wasn't a violet this year. Sentience was a step up.
[OOC: Establishy!]