claire dearing is an olympic sprinter (heels) wrote in witchinghour,
Claire sort of thought along the same lines - they got so few treats (which made them sound like pets and in a way they were, lab rats specifically, kidnapees here for a purpose or experiment no one knew) as it was, that something sweet every now and again wouldn't hurt anything. It could even brighten someone's day, in a place where bright days just didn't really exist. So she was all too happy to deliver delicious fried dough, especially since Tony was nice enough to look at something potentially haunted for her and she wanted to repay him somehow.
"I'm surprised they don't. You know there are cookie and milk companies that deliver to college campuses, why not donuts too?" she smiled a little, elegantly settling into one of the chairs, legs crossed. The tote bag was opened and she pulled out the camera, first and foremost. It had a strap on it and she held the device precariously, for good reason. "No ghost death on my watch. I've got salt, a flashlight, and a pair of killer heels if necessary."