[Diana doesn't particularly like the safehouse. She'd had to stay there for quite a bit longer than anticipated, and it hade made her appreciate the luxury of a private residence more than any other time in her life. Nowadays, she makes it a point to drop by during the first few days after a new batch of displaced have shown up, not only so she can learn their names and faces, but also so she can drop off anything that might make their stay less, well. Uncomfortable.
This time, her offerings consist of a few pieces of clothing that she's already left in the main area, as well as some sweets she'd picked up at the market. Diana will never admit it to anyone, but she's got something of a sweet tooth, and her first few days in New Amsterdam had left her craving anything sugary, as if that would somehow make her feel closer to her own home. It hadn't much mattered that ricemilk and carob make for a slightly odd "chocolate" bar; it's the near-familiarity of it that had made the difference to her and, she hopes, will do the same for the newcomers.
Even before she steps into the kitchen, she can smell that something has burned. Her eyes skate over the scene before her (not nearly as disastrous as it could be), and she sets her final bag down on the counter before she starts searching for the plate. If she eats food from the safehouse now, she'll just have to replace it later; things have been well-stocked lately, but she doesn't want to leave anyone here wanting.]
That's better than what I can usually manage.
[She may sound like she's joking, but she isn't. A century among mankind, and Diana still has trouble with the basics. Thank the gods food trucks are still a thing in this future.]
d.
This time, her offerings consist of a few pieces of clothing that she's already left in the main area, as well as some sweets she'd picked up at the market. Diana will never admit it to anyone, but she's got something of a sweet tooth, and her first few days in New Amsterdam had left her craving anything sugary, as if that would somehow make her feel closer to her own home. It hadn't much mattered that ricemilk and carob make for a slightly odd "chocolate" bar; it's the near-familiarity of it that had made the difference to her and, she hopes, will do the same for the newcomers.
Even before she steps into the kitchen, she can smell that something has burned. Her eyes skate over the scene before her (not nearly as disastrous as it could be), and she sets her final bag down on the counter before she starts searching for the plate. If she eats food from the safehouse now, she'll just have to replace it later; things have been well-stocked lately, but she doesn't want to leave anyone here wanting.]
That's better than what I can usually manage.
[She may sound like she's joking, but she isn't. A century among mankind, and Diana still has trouble with the basics. Thank the gods food trucks are still a thing in this future.]