If anyone asked Kathy how she was dealing with the events of Monday's little destination adventure, she'd tell them she was doing just fine, thank you. She'd had her crying, she'd had a good talk, she'd drowned her brain out with purely physical pleasure for a bit, and now she was much better. The only lasting consequence of Monday was her new inability to walk past a certain empty room on the fifth floor without blushing a little bit. Everything was fine.
Granted, she hadn't gone out and patrolled as Banzai even once yet this week. And she was spending hours at the gym and in the salle, weight-training and working on the moves Eliot had been drilling into her for several months now. Oh, and she wasn't sleeping well at all, even with how exhausted she was. But those weren't related, either to one another or to Monday. They just...were. She was just adjusting after a week away. Or the change in seasons and the darkening days were messing with her natural rhythms. Or it was stress over college applications. Kathy had a hundred different excuses she could apply to the situation--or would if there were a situation.
Which there wasn't.
Because she was fine.
Take today for instance. She had dubstep blaring wile she did set after set after set of pushups. Beneath her on the floor was her Italian textbook; she was memorizing verb conjugation with every rep. On her bed were several dresses so she could figure out what to wear for the dance this weekend in between sets. In all, a completely normal day with nothing at all amiss.
See? Kathy was fine.
- Room 508, Thursday Afternoon