[ Jo’s already sitting there with a tray of her own food, picking through the remains of whatever goop happened to be served up today. She’d decided at some point that it might be freeze dried brains from some long dead animal – judging only by the color, of course – and had promptly decided to no longer try and decipher what it might be from that point on.
She jumps when a second tray clatters to the table, and looks over, shoving a strand of curly hair behind her ear. ]
Whoa, baby. Careful – it might just run off your tray if you treat it bad.
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She jumps when a second tray clatters to the table, and looks over, shoving a strand of curly hair behind her ear. ]
Whoa, baby. Careful – it might just run off your tray if you treat it bad.