It always took a few nights for Bunny to get used to sleeping inside again, and so evenings left her fidgety as she anticipated the restless night ahead. This hospital that she found herself had enough space for walking, and so Bunny roamed the corridors, trying to cement a map of the place inside her mind. There were so many people living here, far more than she'd seen in one place in a long time, and it seemed like every few steps she was having to nod hello and smile at one unfamiliar face or another.
Pausing by one of the signs on the wall, the sort with arrows pointing the way for visitors, Bunny hummed quietly as she read the directions. Of course, she couldn't be sure that the signs were still accurate. Much of the hospital had been converted to permanent living space, and so who knew what might actually be in either direction.
Finally deciding just to pick one, she started walking again, still humming. "Shine on the one that's gone and left me blue," she sang, quietly, and then paused, breaking off before the next line of the song. Something -- a hint of cinnamon -- had floated through the air from nearby. Cinnamon was a homey scent and almost always lead to good things. Bunny stayed still for a long moment, waiting to catch the aroma again. When it came, she followed it.
The cinnamon lead her to the hall outside a door that could only lead to a kitchen, with the sound of something sizzling and popping coming from inside. With only the barest hesitation, Bunny pushed open the door, just in time to be greeted by a yell of exultation from the chef within.
For a moment she watched in wonder, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Then Bunny slipped into the kitchen and, beginning to grin now, said, "What are we celebrating? It must be whatever you're cooking, because it smells heavenly."