[You get sort of used to a baseline level of weirdness with this app, Rosalind finds. It's not that she's ever prepared for whatever Retrospec is going to bring next, but nothing seems to much shock her. After spending a week six inches tall and the loss of blue and green, a bit of Scrabble in order to get home seems to fit right in.
Which isn't to say she's happy about it. Just sort of wearily used to it.
She and Ms. Sandiego had been having a very pleasant meeting, chatting about numbers and scholarships and the possibility of a donation to expand one of the labs, and they'd ended on a lovely note. She'd thought that would be the end of it, but then Ms. Sandiego had forgotten one of her folders, and so Rosalind had hurried down to return it to her, and now . . .
Now they're standing on opposite ends of a gaping void, with tiles full of letters and no way home.]
Good god.
[She just sounds annoyed.
X, Carmen had tossed. Rosalind hesitates, glaces over her letters, and finally throws out: J I N. Seems appropriate for this spot of bad luck.]
II
Which isn't to say she's happy about it. Just sort of wearily used to it.
She and Ms. Sandiego had been having a very pleasant meeting, chatting about numbers and scholarships and the possibility of a donation to expand one of the labs, and they'd ended on a lovely note. She'd thought that would be the end of it, but then Ms. Sandiego had forgotten one of her folders, and so Rosalind had hurried down to return it to her, and now . . .
Now they're standing on opposite ends of a gaping void, with tiles full of letters and no way home.]
Good god.
[She just sounds annoyed.
X, Carmen had tossed. Rosalind hesitates, glaces over her letters, and finally throws out: J I N. Seems appropriate for this spot of bad luck.]