Championship Lockerroom: Leah wasn't able to clean up very well (Luck:-10 Suspicion: -5)

Doing her best with limited options, she turned on the faucet, but the water pressure was low and it barely trickled into her hands. She hoped there might be some paper towels to help mop up the mess. ****, she scanned the room again, hoping there might be a spare roll of towels hidden somewhere. But every nook and cranny was bare and the reality hit her like a ton of bricks—there was nothing. Not even a square of toilet paper in sight.

She grimaced and went back to the mirror, using her fingers to scrape and flick away as much off her skin as she could. It was sticky and still wet, and without paper products it was a futile effort that only spread it around more. Despite the hopelessness, she wiped at herself in vain, resigned that there was little she could do in the moment. With a deep breath and another sigh, she admitted defeat. She could only get so much off. And she couldn't risk trying to find a shower in the unfamiliar athletic complex.

Leah headed back to the bleachers...