Hungry zombies are dangerous zombies.
But today, she was asleep by the time it was 6 Am. Raising corpses was certainly a tiring job. And more to the fact, she was just beginning. She slept as the day wore on. Sometime around 3 PM, the recently restored corpse began to shuffle around, looking for food. At 4.15 PM, a loud alarm went off. Still, the Necromancer slept.
When it was nearly 9 PM, she awoke with a start. Everything was in chaos. Her alarm was going off, like it'd been for the past 5 or so hours, even though it was her day off. The corpse was still in the morgue, bumping around and groaning, almost comically, for brains.
Dragging herself off the stool, and into the kitchen, she opened the fridge, yanking out several raw chicken breasts that she's left defrosting.
With the still raw chunks of meat in hand, she made a beeline for the morgue. Hungry zombies were dangerous zombies. When opening the door, the zombie, whatever-his-first-name-was Radke made a mad dash towards the Necromancer, arms raised as if to attack.
She threw the raw chicken at him, slamming the door shut again. From inside, could be heard the noise of the corpse viciously ripping into the meat, eating it quickly, as though he'd never get food again. A few minutes after the noises had died down, she opened the door again.
Her regenerated zombie was sitting on the ground, a fairly content look on it's face. She rolled her eyes, before saying, "Come on, you smell like shit.", and gesturing for the corpse to follow her. Doing so, she led him to a bathroom. "Take a shower, I'll leave something for you to change into."
The corpse entered the bathroom. The truth is, the Necromancer didn't care how the corpse smelled. She just wanted to see if the corpse was capable of remembering how do to things from it's human life.
When she returned with towels and a pair of sweats for the corpse, she heard the shower running. Entering the bathroom, she nearly tripped over the corpse's discarded clothing. Depositing the bundle she was carrying onto the toilet, she scooped up the discarded clothing, looking at it. Were pants that tight ever really in style? And garishly printed scarves covered in skulls?
Shrugging, she left the room with them, dumping them into the washing machine several rooms over.
Then, she decided to help herself to a shower in another bathroom.