She pauses, fingers stilling in Cara's hair. That's interesting. She leans forward slightly, studying Cara's face. "You don't think you can what? Be specific."

"Tell you when I need to go to the bathroom, or need food, or water."  Her face is mostly the usual blank, but her brow is slightly furrowed. 

"Oh." She blinks, then laughs—a sharp, delighted sound. "You can't tell when you need things. That's part of it, isn't it? No access to your own wants." She cups Cara's face between her hands, tilting it up to study her more closely. "You literally don't know you need to piss until it's already happening."

She releases her and sits back, tapping a finger against her lips. "Alright. New plan. Every two hours, you use the bathroom whether you think you need to or not. Every four hours, you drink water. Every six, you eat something." She pauses. "Can you keep track of time? Or is that gone too?"

"It's been more than 6 hours since I last ate."

She looks around for a wall clock.

WHY is she like this.

Probably it's the backlash.

(But who knows? Maybe she's just like this all the time.)

OK. She's normal, she's fine.

"I am going to get you food. What do you... eat."

How the turn tables.

She lists out some meals she's had recently. Seems like she eats: a variety of carb-heavy breakfasts, lots of variety in frozen potato product™, a mixture of fake meat / beans / cheese for proteins.

"Of course you're vegetarian with your blue hair and pronouns." She stands, grabbing her keys from the desk. "Fine. I have leftover pad thai in the fridge. That'll have to do." She pauses at the door, looking back at Cara sitting obediently on the floor. "Actually, no. Stand up. Go to the bathroom first. Third door on the left, remember? Use it, wash your hands, then come straight back here and sit in exactly the same spot."

She watches Cara for a moment longer, then adds, "And don't talk to anyone in the hall. If someone talks to you, you ignore them. Understood?"

There is, for the record, a wall clock. It has ornate filigreed bronzed hands and a cracked plastic dome. The pad thai probably exists also, if she wants to look for it.

She nods, then gets up to head to the bathroom, still naked.

"Put on a swimsuit or clothes or something."

-she looks around for some clothes to put on.

Fluffy sleeved pink robe.

Cara dons the robe and then departs, presumably bathroomwards.

She watches Cara leave, then heads to the communal kitchen. The pad thai is exactly where she left it, still in its takeout container. She dumps it onto a plate and throws it in the microwave, drumming her fingers on the counter while it heats. Three minutes. Four, to be safe.

She grabs a fork and heads back to her room, setting the plate on her desk. She glances at the door, then sits back down in her chair to wait.

Cara returns from the bathroom about 5 minutes later, and sits down where she remembers having sat before, the fluffy pink robe pooling around her.

Does she smell weird

Nope! (The ends of the sleeves look like they got a bit wet?)

She picks up the plate and holds it out. "Eat. Take small bites. Chew completely before swallowing." She watches for a moment, then adds, "Use the fork."

While Cara follows the instructions, she reaches over to roll up the damp sleeves, fingers lingering against the skin of her wrists. The contact sends that pleasant hum through her nerves again. She keeps one hand there, ostensibly to keep the sleeve from falling back down.

Small bite onto fork, fork into mouth, chew, swallow. Repeat until food is gone.

Great. Well, she has to go to class now. She strips and swaps to something more appropriate efficiently, donning wide black pants with lots of buckles, a black cotton blouse, and stompy steel toed boots.

"I'll be back in an hour. Don't break anything."