<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Laundry - Bloody Hell!!</strong></span></div><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/cLExZTR.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Prof. Amira Hensley<br/><strong>Sortment:</strong>Visiting Anthropology Professor<br/><strong>Date and Time:</strong>October 1, 4:00 a.m.<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Guinevere Staff Apartments, outside<br/><strong>Mood:</strong>still jetlaggy, punch drunk, and about ready to lose her cool<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Artemis Fowl<em><strong> [closed]</strong></em><hr/><br/>"Bullocks!" A very angry, petite, and half dressed anthropology professor hurriedly ran down the stairs from Apartment #16 all the way to the basement where the utility room was. A few (not so) quiet slams of appliance doors and again the frazzled brunette ran back up the stairs to Apartment #16.<em>Why oh why did I not ask for a flat on the ground floor?</em><br/><br/>Moody Ms. Mira jiggled the doorknob to her new accommodations and again, "Bullocks!" She crumbled down to sit on the slight lip of the door jab and wondered where she might find the custodial office on campus. Probably not a hop, skip, and a jump away. This was a great way to start her assignment at JCP.<br/><br/>(Backtrack a half an hour)<br/><br/>She had laid down for just an hours kip after working more in her office, planning to do some grocery shopping, chores, and laundry before starting a well packed day around campus. But she had been so knackered that she slept through her alarm (actually from the artifacts of wires and broken plastic strewn across the floor of her bedroom she deduced that her sleepy self had thrown it, quite purposefully). And she woke up an hour away from need to leave with no breakfast, no clean laundry, and in need of a shower.<br/><br/>Twenty minutes into her race against the clock she had a load in the washer, a cup of hot coffee salvation, and a very quick birdbath of a shower. She threw on a tank and a pair of cotton running shorts and headed down to check on her clothes. They were luckily rung out enough to toss for a quick spin in the dryer and she headed up the staircase and back into.....  a locked door.<br/><br/>"Oh.... fu...." She tried to calm down a little and just lightly kicked at her door with her bare foot. "Get stuffed!" This day had quite promptly gone pear shaped.<br/><br/>(Back to the present)<br/><br/>She would most certainly need to get out into town to see about a full service laundrette, right after she survived the hurdles she was currently trying to jump (in a tank top, no bra, and short shorts). Mira pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, damp strings of hair falling over her face. She would have to wait for her clothes to dry now... hoping to piece enough together for a suitable outfit to go tramping around campus looking for a lockpick.<br/><br/>Why did she leave London again?