Reginald:
She's stayed in our room for eight days now. Sitting in the darkness, it looks like she's meditating. What she's really doing? I have no idea. This morning I woke up and the curtains were drawn. I walked downstairs to find her talking to everyone like she hadn't just locked herself in the room for a week.
"Good morning," she greeted, placing a coffee mug in front of me. Everyone cleared out the kitchen.
"It's a better morning," I let out a sigh of relief, taking a drink of coffee.
"You have questions?" she asked placing two biscuits with a side of eggs. She then drowned the biscuits in gravy.
"What's in this?"
"Creme, mushrooms, a little bit of chicken broth, chicken breast bites," she talks so casually like she's purposely trying to be cute.
"Y
