[Mercy's looking absolutely exhausted, as if she hasn't slept for days. Which would probably be fairly accurate. She's been indulging in her go-to activities for dealing with bad emotions, namely baking and cleaning. The glimpses someone might get of the kitchen in the house show everything spotless and cleaned to within an inch of its life, as would the rest of the house if you could see it.

The problem at the moment is the sheets and sheets of chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies - and are those brownies over there?

She's staring at the latest batch she's started in dismay.]


I don't know what's going on, but every time I try to make something I end up tripling the recipe. At this rate there won't be room for anything in the house but cookies and brownies and the freezer's already full. Including the chest freezer downstairs. And if I bring anymore to the store Donna may kill me for getting crumbs all over her paperwork.

Tosh? Ianto? Fresh hot cookies?


Could the Welcome Center or Youth Center use a few hundred dozen or something? Anyone? Please.

I have so many more than any of us could ever eat.



[Oh so very cursed. Come get a cookie - or 3.14 of them if you'd rather. Voice/video for anyone who wants, action for anyone in the house or who might want to come by to get cookies or make Mercy stop baking.]

[ The video starts with a pan in on someone wearing tight trousers and big, stomping boots. Whoever it is, skips along three pavement slabs, and then hops to the middle of the next one, stands on his tiptoes and wavers. ]

Oh come on, that's not the right point. Nine hundred years old and I should be able to skip a point fourteen. What kind of person am I? Honestly.

[ It's very much the Doctor's voice, and he sighs, starts jumping again. ] I don't know why, but I just can't get the number out of my head. [ 1, 2, 3, wavering slightly on the fourth again. ] I made three cups of tea today, filled up the fourth up only a little bit. Good thing too, I like to think even I can't drink that much tea. A full fourth might've been pushing it. Maybe that's why I can't keep still.

[ Skip. Hop. Jump. Wobble. ] Oh c'mon. This is awful. Why can't I get this right at all?

[ The classroom is empty, but for a toiling McG at one of the tables, books and ingredients spread out around her. A quick flick of her wand, and another book jumps from her desk over a few lamps and into her hands, where she flips through pages frantically. On the table, among the mess, are various obviously badly-conjured things. And Minerva looks less than elated about it. ]

Hasn't ever happened to me, not once. Not in school, not in my studies; this is ridiculous.

[ Now it's obvious what has happened, as she starts scooping up her mistakes. One, two, three pocket watches-- and then the ingredients to what might approximate to .14 of a pocket watch. All into the wastebin. One, two, three fountain pens-- and a pool of ink and metal bits that wouldn't amount to much more than you guessed it, .14 of the whole of one. So on and so forth, items lay about the tables and her desk, in series similar to these. ]

I think for today, it might be safer if classes were to be postponed...

[Hello, City. Today you are treated to a case with potion bottles. It seems that there are 3.14 of each kind carefully lined up. In front of this case there are 3 cauldrons and a tiny cauldron with steam rising up from it.

Ingredients are all measured out carefully nearby in a similar manner.

In walks Snape carrying 3 large books and one tiny one. He goes over to look at the potions to see how they are doing.]

Crimson red...less than three and one quarter minutes left to simmer. [The words are murmured...like he's unaware of the fact that anyone could be listening in.

Then he sees his device on and he frowns.]

I see privacy remains a complication in this place.

( private, text, unhackable )

[and to video, leaning back idly in his chair]

I saw someone on the street today trying quite hard to smoke three cigarettes at once, and I ended up with about six and a half croissants from the bakery for the price of two this morning. Much as I'd rather it was my overwhelming charm, I figure it's safe to say I don't really merit over commerce, so I suppose we've got another curse on our hands. I only hope no one overdoses on medication.

But at any rate, I have a question. Given the length of time and the people here I'm sure it's been asked before. How many of you have been back home, for however long? Did you remember this place at all while you were there, or would that have even made a difference? Inquiring minds, and so forth.

[It's video. On purpose. Charlie's making sure it's done on purpose. She's on the roof of her building and she's filming a row of large, white buckets with dirt in them. And there are green things poking out of the dirt. Some of the buckets have green sticks poking out and with the way the green plants are carefully tied to the green sticks, they're for support.

There's a row of smaller bucket with the same dirt-and-plant combination, some of the plants with small flowers on them.]

This took way too long to do. But, thank God my landlady was cool with this. I have to share some of the strawberries when they grow and some of the tomatoes, too but that's fine. Haven't had a garden in forever and figured I needed one.

[There's more shots of the rooftop garden, even a brief glimpse of a few big coffee cans on a table, again plants-and-dirt and they're labeled things like 'chives', 'oregano', 'parsley', 'thyme' and 'dill'. Someone's been having fun on the roof.] Oh! Also...

[And then the camera is pointing at strands of various lights hung on a frame. The sun is setting so the effect of the white lights on the sky is pretty neat.] These were so cheap to by after Christmas and the frame was already up here. What it was before, I don't know. I just saw the frame and suddenly wanted lights.

[And the camera turns again and there is Charlie on a long, cloth lawn chair. There's an old looking bedside table next to her. It has a couple books and a soda on it. There's a blanket on the back of the chair and the flicker-glow of a nearby fire. And Charlie is grinning.]

Worth every second of work.

[End feed.]

This seemed to be coming together just fine, but now that I'm taking a step back to look at it...

( Cut for image size )

Wasted work.

I think I'll take the rest of the day off.

Come on, man, what guy doesn't want his wheels to go three times faster than it already does?

[The number 3.14 has been driving Dawn crazy today. So instead of stay at work where nothing added up to 3.14 she decided to do one of her favorite things and go shopping. And when nothing added up to 3.14 there, she decided to split the three from the fourteen and go from there.

After a full day of shopping, Dawn is currently standing in front of the make-up counter at the store looking a little bit perplexed, maybe kind of stressed out. Shopping is usually something that's calming, like a creature comfort, and it has been for most of the day... until now. Her voice sounds over the network.]

So, so far today I've bought myself three new pairs of shoes, three new tops, three new jeans slash trousers and three new pajama pants slash shorts. That's twelve things and now I'm stuck because for some reason I only want to go to fourteen items but that messes with my whole buying three of everything. Another three and it'll be fifteen.

I mean what's a girl supposed to do? Do I leave the whole three thing I have going on and go with fourteen or do I stick with three and make it fifteen? Stupid decisions. It's like there's a chocolate and vanilla cake sitting in front of you but you can't have both. You can only have one. How do you choose? I mean... chocolate and vanilla... right there!

Totally not cool, math... totally not cool.

[Cinna's working, pinning some pieces he's draped over a dress form, unfortunately for him, it appears his measurements are completely wrong. One sleeve appears to be 3.14 times longer than the other, the back is the same amount times the front, and the whole thing appears to be made for someone 3.14 meters tall. All in all, it looks a little strange.

Cinna steps back and consults his sketchbook.]

I know I measured all of that right...

[He turns to the device.]

I something playing with the units of measurements? This isn't how this is supposed to look.

[He goes back to the form and begins unpinning things.]



[ooc: I wanted to get this up today, but I'm feeling unwell so I won't get to tag it until tomorrow. Apologies!]

THIS CITY, IT DOES NOT ALLOW ITS RESIDENTS TO SLEEP DOES IT? TELL ME THAT THERE HAS BEEN ODD EXCESSES HAPPENING TO EVERYONE OR AM I JUST ONE OF THE FEW IT CHOOSES TO DENY. 

[Doing 3.14x more of everything is really tiring. The dog wants to be walked more, Thor's insomnia has increased more, his wish for Loki to be back etc. etc. 

Also, he is 3.14x more grumpy. Enjoy that.] 

[Harry just got home, bags scattered across the kitchen, the device is on the counter, and he's looking in them perplexed like he doesn't know what's in them. And, to be fair, he sort of doesn't.] The fuck is up with this math shit today. I can't do math. Walking through the store trying to get food and I'm multiplying shit times a ridiculous number... I even had a list. Half the crap in these bags isn't on it. I just have like... Fuckin' pies and soda and cigarettes and shit. The hell. Half a tomato? Who even let me buy part of a tomato? [He mumbles to himself.] Fucking math everywhere, I'm not even trying and then it's just there with the eight percent and yanking me around. Jesus.

[He stands there, looking at the half unpacked groceries, then looks at the device, grabs a cigarette, and walks into another room to leave it for later.] Crazy goddamn day.


[ooc: backdated like half an hour.]