Kitty was bundled up as well, though her attention was not on her cold-ridden roomie or their big Russian co-conspirator. She was looking skyward with a puzzled expression on her face. "I have a sudden urge to burst out in song," she admitted dreamily. And because Kitty was the type to give into her odd impulses more often than not, she started to sing.
"Iiiiiiiii'm dreaming....of a whiiiiiiiiiite Christmas..." That was about as far as she got, though, before giggles took her over. She was the one who'd grabbed the ax from the shed and she imagined it would be a fairly amusing sight to see someone her size, singing to the sky with an ax slung over her shoulder. "Okay," she admitted when she could talk through her laughter, "I seriously do not know what's wrong with me today."
Perhaps it was the lack of stress from school and teaching? Maybe it was holiday giddiness? Either way, Kitty felt a lot less tense than she had in a long time. She finally looked at Theresa and stuck out her bottom lip. "I'm sorry you're sick, Terry. Of all the times, right?"
Looking up at Piotr, she grinned as widely as she could. "Let's go chop down a tree before she sneezes herself into oblivion."