![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Week Fifteen: Tuesday
Who: Gem, Libby, Saint, and Wolf?
What: Arguments about Gem's shop.
When: Tuesday mid-morning, breakfast time.
Where: The White House
Rating: PG. Mayhap some yelling, cussing, and foot stomping?
Status: In Progress
Gem woke slowly, feeling relieved and elated for a change. The past few days had been damn near pleasant. There was tension of course. It wasn't easy to have a "Lion" in the midst of the Wolves. Saint hadn't been in contact with too many people yet. Gem wasn't even sure Wolf wanted it to be common knowledge that he was here. But Gem was the happiest she'd been in a really long time. Her sister was safe, so was her man, and the house was beginning to take on the appearance of a home again. Not having much else to do, Gem had been cleaning as much as she could, repairing what could be repaired and tossing out what couldn't be salvaged. A lot of the house had been torn to shreds, as if someone was looking for something in every pillow and behind every picture frame. But with some glue and thread, Gem had managed to pull things together for the most part. She'd mad a run to the farm, with an escort of course, to get supplies that had been looted from the house. Thank goodness they'd gotten food on that supply run. She was in the mood to make breakfast.
Stretching cat-like in her bed, Gem sat up and straightened the long white t-shirt she'd slept in. Nova's- Her room (she was beginning to feel as is she belonged there) had been left relatively unharmed and most of her clothes had been with her at the farm, thank goodness. And her favorite pair of knee-high socks had been left in the top drawer of the dresser. The soft grey wool had been woven into the shape of socks by her mother and she had kept careful track of them through all her travels. After slipping them on and up over her knees, Gem crawled out of bed and leaned over Callum, pattin his head until he roused.
"Come on, you big lug. Let's go make breakfast." He followed her as she tiptoed down the stairs, his nails clicking lightly on the scarred hardwood floor. The kitchen was empty, sort of bare but clean at least. And they'd managed to get some spare dishes and cookware from the farm. Enough, at least, for Gem to make biscuits and gravy for breakfast. She got to work, humming an old Scottish hymn under her breath as she mixed dough together on the counter and let bacon sizzle in it's pan. As Callum settled in under the table, scents wafted through the house with her bell-toned song. People would be waking up soon. Hopefully breakfast would make them a bit more willing to listen to her plea. It was about time she set up her shop.
What: Arguments about Gem's shop.
When: Tuesday mid-morning, breakfast time.
Where: The White House
Rating: PG. Mayhap some yelling, cussing, and foot stomping?
Status: In Progress
Gem woke slowly, feeling relieved and elated for a change. The past few days had been damn near pleasant. There was tension of course. It wasn't easy to have a "Lion" in the midst of the Wolves. Saint hadn't been in contact with too many people yet. Gem wasn't even sure Wolf wanted it to be common knowledge that he was here. But Gem was the happiest she'd been in a really long time. Her sister was safe, so was her man, and the house was beginning to take on the appearance of a home again. Not having much else to do, Gem had been cleaning as much as she could, repairing what could be repaired and tossing out what couldn't be salvaged. A lot of the house had been torn to shreds, as if someone was looking for something in every pillow and behind every picture frame. But with some glue and thread, Gem had managed to pull things together for the most part. She'd mad a run to the farm, with an escort of course, to get supplies that had been looted from the house. Thank goodness they'd gotten food on that supply run. She was in the mood to make breakfast.
Stretching cat-like in her bed, Gem sat up and straightened the long white t-shirt she'd slept in. Nova's- Her room (she was beginning to feel as is she belonged there) had been left relatively unharmed and most of her clothes had been with her at the farm, thank goodness. And her favorite pair of knee-high socks had been left in the top drawer of the dresser. The soft grey wool had been woven into the shape of socks by her mother and she had kept careful track of them through all her travels. After slipping them on and up over her knees, Gem crawled out of bed and leaned over Callum, pattin his head until he roused.
"Come on, you big lug. Let's go make breakfast." He followed her as she tiptoed down the stairs, his nails clicking lightly on the scarred hardwood floor. The kitchen was empty, sort of bare but clean at least. And they'd managed to get some spare dishes and cookware from the farm. Enough, at least, for Gem to make biscuits and gravy for breakfast. She got to work, humming an old Scottish hymn under her breath as she mixed dough together on the counter and let bacon sizzle in it's pan. As Callum settled in under the table, scents wafted through the house with her bell-toned song. People would be waking up soon. Hopefully breakfast would make them a bit more willing to listen to her plea. It was about time she set up her shop.