There was something very soothing about being in a kitchen; she knew who she was when she was in one, knew how the world fit around her. She never would have been happy as a professional chef, but she liked the universal order to the world. It just made her itch to be doing something, helping with the cake or with supper prep, because that's what people did in kitchens, but had to accept being shooed over to the breakfast bar instead, sliding up onto a stool across from Dick. She wasn't sure how Alfred did it without firm orders, but it worked.
"Four days ago," she said. "All networked connections simply died, from intranet to internet on up. The servers themselves were fine, and there was minimal data loss, but the only way to communicate to someone else was to call or walk it over. You wouldn't think that would be so bad," she said with a wry smile.
Coffee was always welcome, and she gave a little sigh of pleasure as she took a sip. Never mind the alcohol, she was sure Wayne Manor got their beans shipped direct from a private fair trade coffee plantation. "If it's big enough you drop into SHIELD and pass me a paper note, yeah, I want to know what you really want to tell me," she said.