ichoosefight: (//toddler// but but sadface)
[ Steph found herself a mirror after some initial stumbling around because suddenly she is tiny. Tiny and in somebody else's house. Okay, she knows what's going on, but that doesn't mean she's happy about it. She's seven. ]

You have got to be kidding me.

[ She struggles to find something else to say to sum up this situation, but she's got nothing. The feed ends on the Most Distressed Seven Year Old Face. ]
ichoosefight: (okay concussion let's make some noise)
[ Audio ]

I'm back. That means crisis averted, right? Or at least ended. Whatever. [ A groan. She sounds beat all to hell and exhausted. ]

Feel like I was hit by a bus... that tried to dissect me.

[ Steph fumbles tiredly with the communicator a little, finally getting it set on Video so you can see the infirmary and confirm that yes, she looks tired, but relatively healthy. She doesn't have that "I haven't slept in days" look that death-tollers have. She gives the camera a sleepy little smile before turning serious. ]

Hey, uh, has anybody seen my backpack? It's... sort of dark green, pretty average looking? I had it when I... whatever I did. Got hit by a metaphysical bus. Anyway, it didn't make it to the infirmary with me. Do we have a lost and found here? We should start a lost and found.

[ Private to Tim and Dick, added a little later ]

[ She dun goofed. But Tim asked her to let him know, and Dick should probably know too. So. Somebody looks tired and upset with herself! ]

In the future, if you can at all help it, don't let me use this thing until I've had coffee.


[ooc | Forward-dated to tomorrow because my memo-machine is broken ]

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