Gwen was sitting on her bed, typing out a reply to Ianto's latest email which had, as usual, been vague to the point of cryptic, when she knocked her alarm off the nightstand. Swearing under her breath, she reached under her bed to pick it up.

The swearing got a lot louder as she felt sharp teeth sink into her hand.

The gremlin quickly scuttled into the airvent, but Kelly Garret paid no attention. She was late, and she couldn't go anywhere dressed like this.

A short time later, Kelly jogged down the hall. Slowly. Without a bra.

[Establishly.]

Upon waking up and seeing that no one was around to tell her not to, Gwen had taken to enthusiastically jumping on her bed, but even something as fun as that had lost its appeal after a while, and besides she was hungry.

"C'mon, Myfanwy," she said, picking up the toy pterodactyl and carefully climbing down off the oh-so-high side of the bed. "Let's go 'sploring."

[Establishy]

You'd think that Gwen had reached the point where no matter where, what, how or with who she woke up, it wouldn't phase her.

That loud, masculine, Welsh-accented swearing would be her proving you wrong.

[Open like an open thing.]

Gwen supposed she should have gone on that excursion thingy, but instead she was sprawled out on her bed with her laptop, determinedly not checking her email, and trying to distract herself.

The game she'd found was helping somewhat, but the character's resemblance to Constable Fraser was making her feel extremely guilty every time he managed to die.

[Open, especially to the roomie.]

It had been something of a week, but Gwen had finally found the time to sit down and touch base with Torchwood. Considering some of the classes she'd been enrolled in, she was not in the best of moods.

( Correspondences between a clone and a teaboy. )

[Open to the cabin-mates. Even Worf.]