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Now that things had begun to settle again, Sarah had returned her notice to the board:

Starting to get Cabin fever?
Want something to do?
Lacking in stage fright?
Let's put on a show!
Looking for actors of all ages and talents for an amateur production of Spoon River
If you're interested, please contact Sarah (usually in the library) and let her know.

Sarah was, in fact, in the library, carefully hand copying a few of the pieces from her heavily dog-eared, binder-clipped, xeroxed stack of script.

Sarah was outside, just pacing out across the grounds, a thermal mug of cocoa in one hand and a book in the other, reading aloud occasionally, but mostly just pacing while she read to herself. It was a nice enough day to be outside, and she'd been starting to feel cooped up inside.

In any case she certainly wouldn't mind an interruption.

Sarah had found one of her favorite books of short plays and monologues in the library, and she was back in the ballroom that evening to read. Best acoustics in the place and all.

She was reading aloud, pacing as she did so, the director back home always said that 'motion creates emotion', and that was advice that Sarah had taken to heart. She was flitting back and forth between plays, going from Shakespeare to Williams, from the Quilters to Canterbury Tales and everything between.

Feel free to interrupt, she won't mind.

Who: Sarah and OTA
When: Monday, mid-afternoon
Where: The Library

It was the first time Sarah had gone back to the library since the explosion, not quite a week later and her bruises were already fading to a sickly yellow-green, most of them covered, except for her hands and one angular mark on her jaw where she hadn't managed to block a book.

She circled the room quietly, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books, surprised that she couldn't tell the difference. She shook her head, finally picking a book of fairytales before moving to one of the chairs, drawing her feet up into the seat, watching through the window instead of actually reading.

Sarah was in the library, working on lettering another sign for signups for the play, this one a bit bigger than the previous one, and in colors.

She was startled by the crash, looking up towards the lobby, rather like a deer caught in the headlights, and that was when the shockwave hit, she yelped, throwing her arms up over her head to keep from getting too badly battered by the books falling from the shelves.

Hop, hop, hop.

The Bunny eyes the empty lobby again, just to make sure it is still empty. If anyone sees him doing this, he's in big trouble. But sometimes, well, all the time really, he just has to follow his programming.

Which is telling him, someone has to pay.

So it is that he's carrying a small object, just about the size of an easter egg. Actually, it's painted to look like one too. But with some advanced knowledge, and future technology, the Bunny has created something quite powerful.

"Happy Birthday, buddy." With a quick two hops, he slams the egg into the delivery shoot and hits the button with both feet. After a smooth landing, his beady red eyes stare upwards, waiting for a rush of fire down the tube to tell him he's the new Manager of this place.

BOOM!

As pieces of the residence begin to fall down around his head, he can say but one thing.

"Oops."

((OOC:This is it boys and girls, the big badda boom! Enjoy yourselves.))