Please Feed the Brain (Inspiration)

In which Avery is first a disaster and then pulls no punches

“Okay, then, explain your plan.” Anita crossed her legs.

There was a pause in which Anita, Sorrel, and Elva looked at Avery expectantly. Avery bit her tongue.

“Well…plans are usually Sorrel’s job.”

“By the goddesses, Ave, you’re a disaster. You were planning to just stroll out of school with no plan and somehow get your dad out of whatever trouble he’s got himself into?” 

When Anita said it, it sounded a lot more stupid than when Avery had been thinking it. She was just planning to improvise. It was her speciality. Mainly because nothing seemed to go to plan when she got involved. Part of that was down to her, but sometimes it was the situation, and there was no way Avery was taking the blame for all the problems every time.

“Can you come up with a plan?” Elva asked Sorrel, her face scrunched up in question.

“Sorrel’s the tactician,” Avery told her, saluting at Sorrel.

The tactician squirmed. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

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