Fridge door wide open, she leaned down to dig around for something to eat. Something that wouldn't make her regret any of her life choices. Therefore, all the cheese was off the menu. So was Gabriel's Go-Gurt. ...okay, that wasn't an opinion anyway because the very thought of yogurt in a tube was disgusting. Last night's orange chicken it was, then.

"Totally my fault. I should feel so bad for making you do something with your otherwise pathetic life." She set the takeout box on the counter and went for the plates. Without her heels on, it was a little bit of a reach to get the top plate in the stack. Who the hell had cleaned enough dishes that they had a stack of clean plates, anyway?

Oh. Right. Consuela. The angel mojo maid that only appeared when her husband was bored enough to vacuum.

After dumping the remainder of the container of chicken onto the plate, she looked expectantly at Trauma. "Well? Microwave assistance."