Nina had dithered that morning.

Like, maybe, just maybe if she put it off for a bit, Wayne would show up and it would be like normal and—

Ugh.

Stealing the common room, stealing breakfast, was no fun when there was no one on the island to steal it from…

But, like, still. It was tradition.

And, really, Nina needed to eat breakfast anyway…

So she turned the radio on to jingle-y carols about a holiday she was sort of hit-or-miss about the meaning of and, in the name of breakfast, in the name of Wayne, in the name of she was hungry…

She was making breakfast.

And if that breakfast was leaning heavily towards French toast, yogurt, and fruit, rather than pancakes and sausages and eggs, well… so there, Wayne.

[Open breakfast is open!]