Who: Ivy & Sammy When: Late morning Where: The billiards room
After answering the bizarre questionnaire awaiting her when she woke up, Ivy showered and got dressed, already missing her wardrobe back home and wishing she had at least been kidnapped in her fleece pajamas. She left her boots in her room, as there would be no wandering outside today with the weather being as it was, and headed downstairs to make some breakfast and coffee. She hadn't felt very comfortable answering the questions on the network that morning. Ivy had only met a small handful of people, and it felt wrong judging everyone else based on their network posts - except for Justice, probably, given he was pretty open about who and what he was. They hadn't been there very long. How was she supposed to give anything but initial first impression responses? Maybe that's what they had wanted, but it still seemed a bit unfair. Ivy had no clue what they planned to do with the answers, but she had wanted to get out of her room, so she had done what they asked until she heard the locks in her door unlatch.
Now she was standing barefoot in the billiards room, drinking her coffee and staring out the windows at the sheets of ice that covered the back.. deck? Patio? Deck, probably, given how large it was. If it didn't look so treacherous, she may have ventured out again to head into town, but Ivy knew her boots were not snow boots, and if she twisted her ankle or hurt herself, she doubted anyone would even realize she was gone, let alone come rescue her. Ivy still held hope that they could escape somehow. It was as if her brain was shielding her from the possibility that she could actually be stuck there for a long period of time. She knew if she accepted that fact then she might actually lose her shit, and the calm façade she had been harboring since that first day here would crack and shatter. There were enough potential crazies in the house. Ivy didn't need to add herself to growing statistic. Now there was a slight temptation to add a bit of whiskey to her coffee and call it Irish and after a moment of hesitation - that was usually all it was - Ivy moved around the bar to find a bottle. There seemed to be plenty of top shelf selections and Ivy helped herself to one, setting her mug on the bar top and unscrewing the whiskey cap to pour a splash into the coffee.