(no subject)
It had to happen sooner or later, really. It's suppertime at the Wells household, and the eat-in kitchen smells like a spice cabinet exploded. Annie goes all out when she's got to put up enough curry to feed four, two of whom are werewolves. The table's not quite groaning, per se, but damn if it doesn't look like it wants to file a complaint with its union over being asked to do too much.