Yamanaka Ino (Iris)

Ino had woken up at her normal ridiculous hour, freezing, and taken a long look outside before deciding that her clinic shift could go screw itself because Ino? Ino was not going outside in a blizzard. Even if, she'd realized as she'd hauled more blankets on to her bed and crawled back under the covers, the clinic probably had power and was warm. Clinics had things like back up generators and stuff, right? Eh, not worth the odds of getting lost and dying, no.

When she woke up a few hours later—warmer, but then enough blankets to drown in helped with that—Ino peeked out and swore when she realized what she really should have realized before. Her poor plants! It was funny how that got her out of her nest of blankets faster than anything else had as she went to work tacking up blankets over the window and wishing like anything that she had some way to keep her plants warm.

Poking her nose out the hall said that it was even worse out there and she shut her door tight and the shoved blankets at the bottom of it to keep any cold air from getting in. Then she went digging through her kit that she dragged around on missions and came up with a few glow sticks—snapping them got her some light, and if it was green light, well, it was better than nothing. Even if it was an absolute bitch to read by.

So, Ino spent her nibbling on chocolate and granola bars (she had ration bars but Ino was saving those for if this went on for longer than a day or two) alternately reading by glow stick and exercising because that got the blood moving and she could pretend she wasn't cold for a bit and fussing over her plants.

And hiding. But seriously, she was from the Fire Country. Snow and cold were not her friends. Ino curled up in about twelve blankets with another granola bar, another glow stick, and the play she'd picked up in Gaia.

Today sucked.

[Closed door but open post, yes.]

By the time Ino got back to her room she had a headache from forcing herself to keep her temper. She opened the door, with slightly more force than was necessary, stepped inside then shut it. Oh-so-gently.

Then, almost calmly, she picked up one of her potted plants and flung it with all the force she could muster at the wall over her bed. The pot smashed satisfyingly but it wasn’t enough, not near enough, to make her feel better.

Another pot. Another crash against her wall.

How. Crash. Dare. Crash. He. Crash.

How. Crash. Dare. Crash. They. Crash.

Eventually she’d have to stop, either from running out of pots, or from spending her rage. Eventually she’d have to clean this mess up so she could sleep.

Eventually.

CRASH!

[Door is shut, post is very very open. ETA: Romeo showed up last, please. Everyone else is before him.]