IC: Amaranth Desire of the Hungry Stomach

Amy trudged toward Armory, just 30 seconds too late to nab food from the cafeteria before the bell rang. Her stomach growled again, and she once more reevaluated her choice to step out of her room and face the world. At least in the room she had peanut butter and jelly, and.... Frankly, she did look like a wreck. Her red hair was mussed even more than normal, and the slightest sound was making the pain in her head spike. Not to mention that she forgot she was wearing a pair of pajama pants she bought when she was smaller. To be honest, they were likely a pair of pants from a cat-burglary outfit when she was in her teens that she had just appropriated as pajamas. The elasticity coped, but--

DAMN WHY DID HER STOMACH HAVE TO BE SO LOUD?!

She sighed, putting her fingers to her temples and opening the door into the Armory classroom. Hopefully they were going over something quiet today, like making paint still to metal, instead of something like blacksmithing.

Because she did not need Chatsworth yelling at her punctuated by the sound of hammers hitting metal over and over and over and...