@tenderrage-remi
By the time her bedraggled head pokes its way out from under a nest of blankets and comforters, she isn't quite sure how long somebody's been inside her apartment. She knows who it is right away though, because she hasn't had bacon in her fridge in like, ever.
When she wanders out in her boxers and oversized tee, wrapped in a bundle of blankets that makes her look like some kind of pauper-king, she's glaring at Remi as they flip eggs and bacon in a pan. She shivers as she hears the AC try to roll the heat on. It doesn't work. She'll need to fix it. Again. Probably not just for herself. This is confirmed when she looks at her phone's cracked screen. Ostensibly, it's to check the time, but she can't help but see a terrifying two digit notification badge over her voicemail. Terrifying.
"...Does your own stove not work?"
She's not asking about the breakfast.
