“There’s nothing good on television,” she retorted tartly. “And that nerdy man with all the books? He just lost his whole collection thanks to the snow witch. As for admiring my own reflection, even I have limits for how long I can enjoy doing that.” Not that she ever just stood in front of a mirror for no reason—admiring herself and doing nothing else. Every now and then, Kathryn would catch her reflection and stop, fix her hair, smirk at herself, but after years bound in hospital gowns and scrubs, without a stitch of makeup at her disposal? That seemed like a reasonable thing to do.
Kathryn scoffed. “Of course I’d win. That doesn’t mean a washing machine is the hill I wanna die defending. Especially if it lands me in solitary.” She shot him a dark look. “You should know that’s not worth the price for frivolous fun.”
She folded her arms across her chest and closed her fingers into fists. There were no gloves down here, nothing to protect against the sharpness of her toxic nails.
They turn it off at night now. Probably so I can get some sleep.
Kathryn shrugged and glanced around their otherwise empty surroundings. “Clearly it’s not working so well.” She scoffed again. “Explains why so many people here keep freaking the hell out and losing their goddamn minds. You’d think we were back in a freaking hospital again.”