[State-of-the-art though it may be, the technology in the den really doesn't see a whole lot of use; while Rosella could probably puzzle her way through firing up one of the consoles for a game of Mario Kart, there isn't much point to playing now that Sam isn't around. It, like the cars, the cases containing guns and tools and auto parts, and most all of the other things still sitting around the Warehouse that used to be Sam's, mostly just rest in their assigned places and get dusted every once in a while, just to keep them in good, clean condition. But it's good that the system is getting some use now, Rosella muses as she heads for the kitchen, and perhaps she really ought to use it more often after this. As she bustles around the kitchen fetching things, she hears Claire call out from the den and answers in kind.]

I could tell you right now, but it might be better to wait a minute for it, so we're not yelling all over the house!

[Not that she'd mind yelling all over the house, honestly. One of the troubles of the Warehouse is that it can seem so big at times...big and empty. And it's especially so when she has something to be worried about, the way that she does now. Shaking her head quickly to clear it, she neatly assembles a set of plates, forks, bowls of popcorn, and two glasses--one pink with glitter and sparkles trapped between the layers of plastic, the other a plain but pretty shade of blue--onto a tray, then picks it up and carries it back with her to the den.]

Here we are! [And she offers the tray to Claire, punctuating the announcement.] Your chocolate milk is in the pink one. The blue one is my root beer.