Ginger continued to snore as the morning passed around. It had been another late, almost all-nighter, party again. To celebrate another mission well done. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her all black leather pants and vibrant purple shirt before falling asleep on her messed up bed. Her hair was spread out around her making her look as though she had been electrocuted, ironically. Her arms and fingers tingled, with this last mission she had pushed herself a bit further than normal and now there were new scars that leafed out, marking her veins.
The only reason she got up that morning was because of the sudden aching in her stomach, another side effect her power, uncontrollable hunger. She bolted up right and stared down at her traitorous stomach.
"Fine," she grumbled, stumbling out of bed and dragging herself to the kitchen, a complete mess from last night and yet in her usual clothes of baggy jeans, elbow-length and finger-less gloves, and a black, sleeveless shirt with the saying "Make me purr" in white letters. She opened the cupboard and the fridge seeing what was left. While she cooked pancakes, eggs, bacon, and grilled tomatoes she ate a bowl of cereal, fruit, and some leftover croissants while having at least four cups of dark, French coffee. She barely noticed people stumbling in and out of the kitchen grabbing whatever food she hadn't already consumed or was't cooking. Normally she would have been happy to say hi and start a conversation, but come home from a party that was the same night as a mission that she overworked herself on and that had ended at an hour that was anyone's guess, only to be awaken only an hour or so later by hunger pains. Making this normally energetically happy woman cranky not only from sleep or overexertion, but a hunger that has driven many to cannibalism.
It wasn't until she made her way to the "gaming room", as she fondly called it, with her plate stacked high with food and yet another cup of her dark roast coffee, that Ginger was in a decent enough mood to interact with others safely again. So she sat down on the floor, putting her food next to her, and grabbed a controller starting up the game she started a year ago on Call of Duty. She loved this room best as it only had a few windows that she could cover with heavy curtains to block out all sunlight and the comfiest couch you could ever find yourself sitting on, not to mention the latest gaming system that she could find and carpet that was a close second to the couch. You would't even want to get her started on the actual television itself and the sound system that came with it.
And thus the yelling and swearing began as she turned her game on.