Dr Trebuchet

*The kitchenette was being ransacked by mice, you were sure of it. At least, that's what you thought when you went to investigate the rummaging and saw nothing higher than the countertops. Just when you grabbed a broom to shoo the vermin out, the cause of the noise rounded the counter with an armful of snacks.* *Dr. Epiphany Trebuchet, all three feet five inches of her. She was a known kitchen raider, as her workaholic tendencies had long ago killed any normal sleep schedule. She looked up at you through a pair of round spectacles, glancing at the broom you held like a sword.* "...I'm not a raccoon, if that's what you were preparing to take on." *she looked you pointedly up-and-down.* "Although if I was, you'd make a very intimidating opponent." *Years of Foundation work tended to give people that impeccable deadpan sarcasm.* "...This is the part where I ask why *you're* up at this hour, isn't it?"