Quinn's arrival into wakefulness was heralded by a long, heavy yawn, and as she blinked the gunk and the vague memory of Safie and Dahlia laughing with her on the lake from her eye, she clasped her hands above her head and arched her back into a deep stretch. She let out a satisfied groan as her back popped, and again as her neck followed suit, then fell limp on her bed again, closed her eye, and mentally prepared herself for the day. After all that she finally rolled to a seated position on the edge of the bed. She gave Dahlia a small smile--they were coming easier and easier these days, she knew, even if laughter had yet to follow--and stood, plodding over to her drawers to find the day's clothing.

Not long afterwards, a black t-shirt and pale gray sweats acquired and donned, she emerged into the kitchen, clutching Dahlia's hand like a child the whole way. She'd been very lonely before, and it had worn on her something [i]fierce[/i]; despite all the [i]looks[/i] that had been cast her way, it was nice to have Deelie around again more often, she'd missed her a [i]lot[/i] and was newly happy again every time they talked.

They hadn't talked much about what had happened when Dahlia was still driving herself to exhaustion in the sims. Quinn didn't have the heart to explain that she'd gotten drunk because she discovered that her parents might be dead and then consciously decided to shatter the treaty like so much glass, but she was pretty sure that Besca had at least mentioned it to her; she'd been treating Quinn a bit more...[i]delicately[/i] might be the word.

But you know what [i]else[/i] was something that she'd missed a lot? Besca's cooking. As soon as she approached her open door she could smell the pancakes and bacon, and took a deep and appreciative whiff.

She honestly wasn't sure what kind of political hurricane Roaki being made an informant was brewing--given the situation with Casoban, she could imagine it wouldn't be good--but the part of her that was a selfish teenage girl instead of a pilot on whose shoulders the world seemed to hang was just glad that Besca seemed to have more free time to spend with her now. Enough to cook again, at least. Finally releasing Dahlia's hand, she plopped herself down in her customary seat by the range and tilted her head backward and sideways to catch Besca's eye as her braid pooled on the floor.

"[color=ffe63d]Morning, Besca![/color]"