mess hall

[Poking at dubious looking food with a spork: the life, the times. Rose, for her part, does her fair share of moving the food around on the plate without actually eating it. A skill which takes a lifetime of lunch times to master. Of course, all that seems like a minor point considering... well, considering all the things worth an ellipses or two to think about. In an attempt to not think about them, or at least pretend she isn't, she's decided lunch would do just as well until she gets her hands on a few more books and, perhaps, a very large ball of yarn.]

If it's any consolation, they don't seem the type to poison us. [Well.] Deliberately, at least. [So, hello, have a lunch friend. For a given value of lunch, and a given value of friend.]