Early Bird Gets the Worm (open)

[lyricism]

I set fire to the rain...

It was early – really, very early. Hardly anyone was ever up this early, just sitting around doing nothing.

Granted, she wasn’t exactly doing nothing… She was sitting in the kitchen at the bar, a bottle of purple-grey nail polish sitting beside a half-eaten plate of waffles and an emptied glass of orange juice. Adele was hardly ever up this early, only every now and then to photograph a particularly stunning sunrise for her profile and even then she had to drag herself out of the bed those times. This time, though, she had hardly been able to sleep, only fitfully for an hour or two and then lying with her eyes closed for two, maybe three more, trying to nurse a developing migraine.

Obviously she had given up – about four o’clock, two hours ago – and crept into the kitchen, hoping food would prolong the progress of her headache until the sun could rise. It was probably a lack of energy. She had hardly had time to just sit out and let her body replenish its energy reserves since she came here. The fall semester was just about over, give or take another week, and then she’d be on winter break for about a month and she could just relax and focus on her ability. She had hardly even been able to make a small sphere of solar energy since exams started.

Adele glanced out the bay windows behind her, looking for the thin, pale tell-tale rays of the sun that she knew was trying to drag itself into the sky just as she had done. None yet, she noted with an impatient sigh. Where was it already? She had fulfilled her end of the mission, meeting the blazing ball of fire halfway and getting up much earlier than usual, whether it was the weekend or not.

She tapped her newly painted fingernails on the granite countertop, as if the sound would rouse the sun a little quicker. She did not have any classes on Saturdays, but she would like to be able to take a shower and work a little on focusing her abilities. Maybe go for a jog before all of that.

So busy was she in making her plans for the day she didn’t even notice the gradual brightening of the kitchen (she had left the lights off), or the sound of a person’s footsteps making their way down the hall.

[Wolverine]

Wolverine often woke up very early in the morning. There were many different reasons as to why he would wake up so early. The main reason was his stomach liked to be hungry. That morning was no different as Wolverine woke up to a growling stomach. "Damn thing never lets me sleep" He said as he growled back at it. It wouldn't let him go back to sleep either, so he decided to just get up, and find something to eat. He didn't bother getting dressed as he was sure nobody would be up that early. So he headed out into the halls, wearing only a pair of jeans. As he walked through the halls he was focused on listening to everything around him, trying to catch a sound of a student. If he caught a student hanging out in the hallways he would have to try and catch them, and yell at them to see what the hell they were doing in the halls. As he walked through the halls though, he heard nothing.

Wolverine soon came towards the kitchen. He was a few feet from the door when he began to smell something horrible. "What in the hell is that?" he said as he came closer to the door. Once he got to the door he opened it up and looked inside. He barely was able to look around as the strong odor forced him to cough. "What the fuck did you do, die in here?" He said as he could compare the smell to a rotting body. He then shook his head and forced himself to walk across the kitchen towards the fridge. "Damn near lost my appetite" He said as for about a minute his stomach had stopped growling. It began growling again so he opened the fridge and stuck his head inside, trying to find something to eat. "Whatever I eat better not taste like that smell" he said. He barely even paid attention to the kid that was there, and he didn't bother yet to ask her why she was there. He was too focused on getting his stomach to shut the hell up.

[lyricism]

I set fire to the rain...

Yes, she had heard someone walking outside the kitchen in the hallway, but she didn’t exactly consider that person to be making their own way into the kitchen. Such a mistake of not thinking ahead could very possibly be fatal if she were in sketchier conditions, and even though that was not the case, the sudden and highly unexpected opening of the kitchen door served no other purpose except to startle her out of her wits.

The look on her face was almost comical in the way she watched, dumbfounded, as the big man – and God help her but damn, was he big – hacked and let out a few expletives her mother would have slapped her for if she’d repeated some. Fortunately, though, Adele was able to gather up her composure, or as much as she could muster while running off of less than a quarter of her remaining energy, enough to keep from ogling at him. Did every guy walk around half nude in this house? It still felt strange calling the place a home, but it was close to it – or would be at least, if she knew everyone.

“What in the hell is that?” What was what? The smell…? She hadn’t really noticed any smell, not even when she had first came into the kitchen, but now that it had been mentioned…something did smell funky. And she knew for a fact it was not her; at least she thought it was. Maybe she exuded some kind of odor when she was running low on energy? The lousy sun needed to come on up and come out already.

“Um…” Nail polish? She hesitated, wondering whether his question was rhetorical or not. He was certainly her superior by at least five year, if not more; granted, she was going by the appearance of his back and had no idea what he looked like from the front – she hadn’t bothered to look when he’d first walked in and spooked her. He looked sort of familiar, though she could not tell herself from where to save her life.

Adele had to stop herself from giving some sarcastic remark, no matter how good of one the thought up. “Something must've went bad.” Obviously. But what was more obvious, to her at least, was that someone should have thrown whatever is was away before it went bad.

[Wolverine]

[OOC: Sorry it took me so long to reply]

Wolverine had barely even noticed the woman, or even the look that was on her face, when he walked in. She didn't seem to have much to say, but Wolverine didn't care. He would rather have her mind her business then start talking to him and bug him. Wolverine had stuck his head in the fridge looking for something good to eat. When he didn't find anything he growled, and slammed the door shut. He then began sniffing around, and when he got past the bad smell, he could smell waffles. "Waffles" He said simply. He then looked at the woman. "You didn't eat the last of the waffles did you?" He said to her. He then began sniffing around, trying to find the source of the bad smell. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was pretty powerful. He walked around while sniffing the air, and soon was standing beside the woman. He looked down at her and noticed she had something on her fingernails. He then growled. "You stink" He said as he then shook his head and walked to the other side of the kitchen to not only get away from the smell, but to still find something to eat.

He looked through the cupboards and found a jar of peanut butter, and some bread. It wasn’t exactly his favorite thing to eat, but at least it was something. Wolverine popped the lid off of the peanut butter jar, grabbed a knife, and began to spread some on two pieces of bread. Once he was done he put the two bread pieces together and ate the sandwich in just a few bites. He put the lid on the jar, but he didn't bother putting anything away. "Why the hell would you put that shit on your fingers?" Wolverine said to the woman. It was the best way for him to start a small conversation. Small conversation meaning as soon as he got bored he would just walk away. He wasn't sure how the conversation would go, or even if it would be a small one, but he expected to get bored.

[lyricism]

I set fire to the rain...

What was with the rough-handling of the kitchenware? Sure he had to have lived here longer, but that did not entitle someone to go around slamming fridge doors in spurts of annoyance. She watched him scent out possible breakfast items out of the corner of her eye while she tested out the polish on her nails. Dry, of course, so she palmed the two small bottles closer to her to minimize her space.
“You didn’t eat the last of the waffles did you?” Adele glanced up for only a second to make sure she heard him right. And though he had already turned his attention elsewhere she checked her plate; two waffles, or what was left of them. “No, I just started a new box.” Because, for some ungodly reason, someone had left an empty waffle package in the freezer – disgusting. She got up off of the stool she was perched on and took her dishes to the sink, dumping the remaining waffle pieces in the trash. The sensation of imbalance caused her to stand in front of the sink, one hand on the counter like an invalid, until it passed. She was almost charged back up, just not all of the way. “You stink.” Ignore that, Adele.
She hunted down a sponge and dish soap and set to cleaning her dishes, minding her own business while the man rummaged through the drawers and cupboards. It occurred to her that if he had wanted something besides bread and peanut butter he could’ve asked if there was anything else, but then quickly dismissed the idea. Men never asked for help, it was just how they were wired. When she finished she towel-dried the plate, fork and cup off, returning them to where they belonged. She then sought out a spot of countertop that was beginning to drown in morning sunlight to lean against.
“Why the hell would you put that shit on your fingers?” What an odd question to try and make small talk with. Adele brought her fingers up to about mid-way to scrutinize them. He had a point, why did she and her fellow females paint their nails different colors and deem the action pretty? She certainly had no answer, but she was not about to admit that. “Well, it helps to harden our nails, depending on what kind of polish we put on them,” she replied, pausing just a moment to pick off some of the polish that had dried on her finger. “And the colors look nice.”
She rested her hand back against the counter and watched as he screwed the lid back on the peanut butter. But otherwise made no move to clean up. “You just going to leave that stuff there?”