It's never too late for tea (Lucky)

Arms full of groceries, Madeline gently kicked the front door closed behind her and made her way into the kitchen. Checking the clock as she passed it, she quickly calculated the time she had to cook before she was needed back at the dormitories for evening chores. She swayed around a spare leg, leaned against the wall in the hallway at the foot of the stairs, and dropped her bags off on the counters. Another trip from the company car she had borrowed, and she had everything she needed. Singing softly to herself, she pulled out pots, pans, bowls, measuring cups and measuring spoons. Upstairs, her bed had cookbooks laid out with recipes that had caught her interest, some with notes neatly penned in the blank margins. Putting on her apron and opening the kitchen's only window to let in a soft breeze, she pre-heated the oven and began her Saturday routine.

She took her time chopping vegetables and piling them high in bowls that she tucked aside for when she would need them. Red and yellow bell peppers, celery, and onions, their colors layered in different proportions with mushrooms, garlic, and seasonings. A pan of chicken sat sauteing beside a pan of sausage and another pan sat on the back burner with ground beef, all of them sizzling slowly. Madeline whirled about from one task to another, wisps of hair falling from her ponytail. Her mind was focused on the tasks at hand, and with so much on hand, there was no room for any other thought than to occasionally check the time. She had to check that her sausage wasn't burning, and that the chicken was browning evenly. The vegetables, when they were added to the hot pans, had to cook just long enough, but not so long that they lost their color or texture.

She was in the middle of her organized chaos when Lucinda walked in the door, and Madeline spared a glance up with a smile. "Hello. How was the infirmary today?" Though she didn't look her roommate in the eye when she spoke, she was curious about how the day had been inside the big house, and paid attention to her response. Her spoon moved from dish to dish, stirring the contents and letting plumes of savory scented steam drift into the rest of the house.

Lucky pushed some of her blonde hair over her shoulder as she came through the door. Her keys jingling in her hands, the sweeping sounds of her purse moving across the fabric of her trousers. A small 'Oh' left her lips as she noticed the out-of-place leg and she crouched to stand the fallen limb back over. Her free hand dropping to the wall to steady herself. The muscles in her thighs alone working to hold her up and balanced in her slight 2 inch heeled grey leather boots. She kept her sport legs by the door. Her running legs stashed up in the top of the closet. She didn't like messing with the shoelaces on her sport legs so she just took them off at the door so she could leave the shoes on without tracking dirt or dampness through their shared home.

Living with Madeline was interesting. Lucky wasn't a slob, nor was she lazy. But Madeline was something else. She ruled over the household chores with the students for one thing. But even her mannerisms when at ease were so... precise. All measured and just so. Lucky was far from a hurricane, but she felt like one next to Madeline. Like she was that reckless, wild thing of a teenager all over again. The spirit that used to live in her, before it was carried away by a speeding train. Madeline was a haunting whistle in the wind that way. Not unpleasant, just an old feeling returning and reminding.

Lucky glanced up from her spot crouching to the floor and smiled. Had she been living alone she might have left her hardware were it was. It wasn't a big deal, just tipped over. But Madeline made her feel extra compelled to keep things perfect. Tim had a habit of picking up after Lucky to an extent. Not out of wanting to keep things tidy, but rather to spare her the physical inconvenience. Madeline developing the same habit was the furthest thing in the world from what Lucky wanted.

"Weirdly quiet actually. We had a split lip from a kid who slipped on some ice. That was it. I spent half the day doing paperwork and the other half on waste-basket-ball." She gave her brown eyes and playful roll and stood up. Only to sit down on the chair by the door to go through her usual routine. Boots off, pants rolled up, legs off. The legs she usually wore to work were build to accommodate a slight heel. They were hard to walk in barefoot. Them being perpetually and slight on their toes. She rolled the silicone sleeves off her thighs and knees. Exposing the tenser bandage wrapped stumps of her body. Then she pulled her flat feet out of the cute cloth bag on the back of the chair. Slipping her legs in and rolling the silicone over top tight. It was a very solid system.

"And how was daily chores? I didn't hear any reports about... bedsheet tug-o-wars turned violent or anything..."