Steph has fallen into a routine. It's a more physically active one, but it still isn't as social as she used to be. She keeps quiet for the most part as she sits by the fire, near enough to roast marshmallows but far enough to cool off by turning her back to the flames. Cooling off is difficult, however, because an adolescent female peacock cat is lying wedged at her back, to all appearances fast asleep. God forbid she disturb the creature. The warm weather doesn't bother her much, even in black scrub pants. It's more or less the same as it would be in Gotham, and the pink glitter shirt she swiped from the storeroom bares as much skin as it needs to.

She listens to the conversations around her without really hearing them. Every now and again it occurs to her to glance around the fire and see if any of her small group of friends have appeared. She doesn't want to ignore anybody just because she was too distracted to notice them arrive. At the moment there are four marshmallows on her stick, and enough chocolate and graham crackers nearby to make four s'mores. She'll eat them all if she has to, but it would be a lot more fun to share.