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Dinah Lance blondecanary
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Room 312, Saturday evening
Earlier in the week had been amusing for chats after the whole phone weirdness with Jaime. Also, had that been flirting? Naaah. Also, the chili in the common room with Roy and others had been awesome.

Friday Dinah talked to: Roy, Ben, Momoko, Francine and Arthur. Which was probably why she was extra-tired today.

Not napping. Not napping. Not napping.... Dinah's eyes closed. For about five minutes. Then snapped open. Not napping! After her earlier foray and talk with Jak in the Common Room, she'd come back and set up a half dozen candles around her room, and was now sitting up with many comforters, pillows, hot water bottles, and cookies. Right. Awake. Not napping!

[door and room open]

Jack had heard about Dinah's accident on the radio, but he had an invitation from her to stop in and discuss detective work. Tonight seemed a good night to stop in for both reasons.

Even if he was freezing in a way he didn't know people in this time or on this continent could freeze. It had been a long time since he was really cold.

He tapped on the doorframe. "Did I wake you?"

"MMm? No, come on in, Jack. Have a seat. Grab an extra afghan." Dinah smiled only a little sleepily over at him, and meditatively said, "I need a little grill. Charcoal burner. Something. Except I'd probably set fire to my room." She yawned and hugged Camille close, smiling. "Did you get the message I left for you last weekend?"

"I had one odd one from Merlin, one about Emma from someone whose voice I don't know, and one about fruit that made no sense whatsoever," Jack said, shaking his head and bypassing any comment on the concept of Dinah with open flames. "But then I heard the phones were a mess anyhow, so ... no. Nothing from you."

Dinah rolled her eyes, and held out her hand so the papers she'd printed out for Jack came to her hand. "Typical. Half a dozen other people I don't want messages getting to, of course they get them. I told you I'd gotten some of this information for you, if you wanted it," she added, handing it over.

The first few pages were on college criminal justice programs and courses; the second set, on getting license, the third, on business practices for investigators, including firearms and insurance. "There's a whole ton of stuff out there, although some of it varies from state to state. I printed out most of the ones for New England and Maryland, I figured you'd stay around here."

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"This sucks," Claire said, poking her face out from under the mountain of covers on her bed.

"Yessss," Dinah agreed sleepily, pouting. "I should've got a battery-powered space heater for myself, when I shipped them to Reno." She shivered, and Camille mrrow'd in complaint.

"Not like we expected the power to be out all freaking day," Claire pointed out.

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"Kiss kiss..." Karla's voice floated through the door. She totally didn't sound chagrined, for the record. That was Dinah's concussion, totally.

"Hey," Dinah yawned again, then grimaced. "Uurgh. C'mon in. I have cookies. What's up?"

Karla sidled inside, hooking her hair behind her ears and trying not to look nervous. Or guilty. Because she wasn't. "I came to check on you," she said. "Make sure you were okay. I can add a warming spell on your blankets if you'd like!"

"That'd be nice," Dinah said, confused, and wondering what that anxiety was about. "IF it doesn't make you too tired or anything...."

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Fiona knocked on the door even though it was open, the sounds sharp and quick.

Dinah blinked a bit more awake, tilting forward to say, "Come on in?"

Fiona made her way in, her expression blank. In one hand, she held a rather pretty looking burgundy jacket. The other held a bar of chocolate.

"Hey."

"Hey," Dinah said back, tentatively, blinking at the jacket and then smiling at the chocolate. "How are you? Trade you cookies for chocolate bites?"

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