A kitchen, a kitchen, my kingdom for a kitchen Characters: Carmel, OPEN Setting: Kitchen, mid-morning (9-ish?)
Normally, Carmel would start exploring upon arriving somewhere new, at least warily, but she had to admit to herself if no one else that the transport had shaken her deeply. Though part of her was exhausted, a hidden spot in the deep of her belly still quivered with anxiety and she could feel the nightmares she would have tonight, even though it was early in the day. She hoped to God that she wouldn't wake everyone up screaming in terror tonight.
Because yes, that would be the way to start things out with a strange group of fellow criminals. Maybe she would just stay up all night.
So after looking over the map and making a quick post, trying to focus on the positive--there was a kitchen, by God, and she was going to use it!--she headed to said kitchen. Certainly there had to be coffee, and she was dying for cookies that didn't come premade. Her fingers itched for the feel of dough. Prison kitchens had nothing on real kitchens. Though she supposed this was still a prison kitchen, technically.
So, coffee and cookies. Once her hands stopped shaking from being bound and blindfolded--don't think about it, don't think about it--she would think about exploring this place more thoroughly.
Methodically she opened cabinet doors and started pulling out supplies from memory, starting a pot of coffee so she'd have some while she baked.