ωonderbomb;

      “And you’re sure this is edible?” 

      A small smile found itself on Hannah's features, watching the girl inspect the food. Hannah decided that she was going to help her. Why? No one should have to suffer through the meal that was Westwood's version of Sloppy Joes. 

Deal! Just give me a call and I’ll pack for you. Also if you need a wardrobe change, call me.

Uh oh, are you saying my wardrobe is bad? Oh god, is it? I mean, I wouldn't be surprised to hear if it was, but I don't think anyone's ever flat out told me. 

To whom it concerns

Oh my God. What is that smell? Who’s cooking?

Way to look like a damn stepford wife, Emm. 

I have almost forgot what home looks like.

Y'know, I wish I had the same ability. Save me a lot of fucking grief, that's for sure.