[ He doesn't really know how he ended up here, in the kitchen of the Shelter. He isn't even aware of the time aside from a general feeling of 'late'. It's been a long day, and maybe he drank a little more than he should.

It'd been a pure accident to discover the capability of the cookbot. Asking where he could find where the stuff to make sandwiches with had gotten him a pb&j in hand. After that, it was all downhill. No one else is here, so his alcohol-muddled mind thinks its an excellent idea to play Hell's Kitchen with the robots scurrying around ]

You call that a cake, Clanky? Do it over. More strawberry jam!

Put a potato in that soup. Don't peel it, idiot, just throw it in there! Yeah. It's supposed to boil over, don't even worry about it.

[ Right now, this is fantastic. This is the best thing ever. He's conducting from a seat on one of the preparation tables, nudging one of the bots with his foot ]

More pickles. Pickles, pickles, pickles.

[ Rummages through boxes in search of wine or beer, conveniently having forgotten that one can't bring alcohol outside of Sector Three. He tosses boxes that prove to be 'duds' right onto the floor, drunklogic telling him that it'll just disappear to where it's supposed to be. Back to the bot. ]

Hey, what's that? Pickles? How am I going to eat a peanut-butter sandwich with pickles? Ugh. Just go make me a burger, ok?

[ Idly eating his sandwich all the while, not thinking he might not be hungry enough to eat any of this when it's to his satisfaction. ]

[it's been quite a while since she practiced, so she's at the tennis court today, dressed in simple tennis wear, playing against the wall as practice for the time being.]

[if anyone was here and interested in a game or two, just approach her, and she'll be sure to oblige. She's pretty good at it, after all!]

((ooc: This post also serves as a placeholder for anyone who wishes to contact her for any reason at all!))