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Dinah Lance blondecanary
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The Arms Hotel, Pillow Suite, Saturday morning
Dinah opened her eyes, and frowned up at the billowy fluffy ceiling. Why had she fallen asleep in the main suite room last night? Probably because she'd been so tired she hadn't been able to make it to the bedroom. And it wasn't like the floor wasn't soft enough to collapse on. She gave her little nest an experimental push, and yawned, staggering to her feet. Then tripped and fell face-first over onto another huge pillow. Why had she come back to Fandom, again?

Right. Overwork, overkill, and Helena tricking her and then shoving her into a portal. Steeling herself, Dinah grumbled and headed toward the coffee maker in the kitchenette area, trying to will coffee into existence.

[open! Dinah is 38, but looks 27, for reference, if you stop by to say hi.]

Ah yes. The show. "I'm told it's at least entertaining. And, yeah, pretty much everything that happens ends up ratings fodder."

"Disasters and delights," Dinah said lightly, then TK'd her bag to herself. "I'm going to go, uh, take a shower. Get dressed." Not awkward. This was Priestly. And after a second's thought, it wasn't. She leaned in for a hug. "I'm glad you're here."

Man, he missed hugs. Or any physical sign of affection that wasn't entirely for the benefit of a TV audience. "Yeah. Me too."