#rivervale_lodge

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In the Lee kitchen, the remains of a loaf of bread are scattered about. The half-empty bag sits open on the table, while crusts - only crusts - litter the kitchen.

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Padding softly through the kitchen in the early AM - he's found it's easier to make this breakfast and have it eaten and hidden away before anyone else awakes... Symon stops, and is confused by the mess. "Lovecraft?!" He asks the shadowcat. "Did you see anything last night?"

Lovecraft assures him that she did not - and is there chicken?

"For breakfast?" A soft snort, as he examines the mayhem.

The shadowcat twines around his legs before delicately picking her way through the bread detritus. Symon's sharp eyes catch that the crusts have not been torn nor cut... rather, they appear that something has eaten round holes into each of the discarded slices.

"Alllllllway chicckkkkeeennn." Headbutt!

In the corner, Ann Marie's broom has fallen down part-way, caught by the handle of the back door. She must have forgotten to put it in the closet last night.

A sigh, and he moves over to take up the broom, so he can sweep up the bread crusts. A pause for a moment as he eyes the broom handle, then he shrugs, takes it up and starts sweeping. Or tries to, As Lovecraft mrooowls softly and winds around his feet, in the way, and finally flomps onto the floor in the middle of his work. "FINE, I'll get you a breakfast sausage. Fair trade?"

It is an old broom, traditional - wooden handle, straw bristles. A few parts threaten to splinter and prick hands.

A mrow from Lovecraft indicates that sausage is an acceptable trade, if not quite a fair one.

He sweeps up the crumbs, saving the larger pieces in a corner cupboard to stale up for tea later.

More cat around his feet. Sausage now?

"mrnnnooowwwwwwwwww?"

After tidying, he does head to the fridge and meats up a couple breakfast sausages - CHICKEN breakfast sausages. And yes, Lovecraft gets one of her own.

Symon gets a headbutt of appreciation before she digs in.

As he picks at his sausage, he ponders. Tis the Yule season. Some mysterious spirit, impish creature of the season? Pondering over possible culprits. His phone makes an appearance and he reviews the Yule lads, contemplatively. "Well, no one has harassed our sheep or stolen our smoked sausages..." Picking at the greasy meat a bit more, before surrendering his to Lovecraft as well.

As is her due!

Hm. It seems like there are many mischievous creatures out there...

But no, not a Yule lad.

He scritches his cat on the head a bit before putting the broom away. "Keep an eye out for anything else, will you Lovey? You know I'm good for it. Let's make sure this stays prankish and doesn't get personal." Still seeming rather miffed about his dollies - ER, Minifigs, as he retreats back down into the basement's safety.

And above, a brief flare of blue light from under the closet door.

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Dirk wanders into the kitchen. He's HUNGRY...

Well, between the eggs and bread, french toast is out of the question...

A sigh, cheese, yeah... he grabs a wheel of cheese, it's not a big wheel, but it smells okay.

A chomp, and perhaps one day someone will explain to him that you're suppose to peel the redcasing off

Mmm, wax!

Mmm munch munch at least the center is good. There are candies like that right?