Post by Delilah A. Black on Apr 4, 2008 18:16:21 GMT -8
Half an hour later, Delilah had managed to clear away most of the mes she left in her kitchen, promptly throwing her plates and five month old dinner off the balcony with much disdain. Wiping up the last of the caked on pasta sauce, the raven haired mechanic looked around. not as clean as her bathroom, but it suited her fine.
Walking into the livingroom and expertly stepping around half-finsished 'projects' tools and broken and fixed guitars alike, she passed her judgement on the state of her living space. Ireally should clean up... she thought to herself, knowing she never would. Wrinkling her nose, Delilah flopped onto her couch, massaging her calves and thighs. "Goddamn jet lag." she muttered ans she picked up the remote and flicked on her TV. An eighteen hour flight from Rome would do that to anyone, and the drunken business man in the seat next to her didn't help matters.
After watching Tv for a while, Delilah began to find herself restless andstill sore, despite her massages. Deciding it was time for a bath, she rolled off the couch and walked towards the bathroom, yawning, picking up her neatly made basket of shampoo, conditioner and soap from outside the door, where she always left it. She flicked on the light, took one look inside and screamed in surprise; "WHAT THE--?!"
The place was filthy. The shower curtain was a pale shade of brown, she could see black and dark brown grit in the tub, her mat was askew and the same shade of ugly brown, her sink, her mirror, her floor, her toilet were all filthy. Dropping her basket of hygenic tools, she put her hand to her chest as she caught her breath. It was just awful! She'd never leave her bathrom, the one place she left as sterile as a hospital, this messy! She hated it when tehre was a spot of saliva on the tap from brushing her teeth! It dawned on her suddenly. She would never leave her bathroom in the condition it was in...which meant...
There was someone here...
Grabbing the nearest thing off the floor, which so happened to be the neck of a broken Fender strat with starburst colouring, she started listening. Her head turned at the faint sound of light snoring, coming from her room (where else would it be?). Tip toeing slowly to her room, she found it only partway closed. Heart hammering in her chest, all sorta of possibilities ran through her mind. What if it's a squatter?, What if it's a meth lab and some junkie's watching it? What if it's WINKLEWOOD? She shivered at the last thought and swallowed her nervousness. Cautiously, Delilah pushed open the door with her foot, and stepped quickly into the room.
There, lying on the bed, was Aoyama Rem, in nothing but his boxers. Delilah paused a moment, blinking at the epiphany. Part of her was elated to see her boyfriend, but another part was genuinely confused. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" She shouted, dropping her guitar and leaning against the wall in relief. Thank God it wasn't Winklewood... She stil had nightmares about his social class.
Walking into the livingroom and expertly stepping around half-finsished 'projects' tools and broken and fixed guitars alike, she passed her judgement on the state of her living space. Ireally should clean up... she thought to herself, knowing she never would. Wrinkling her nose, Delilah flopped onto her couch, massaging her calves and thighs. "Goddamn jet lag." she muttered ans she picked up the remote and flicked on her TV. An eighteen hour flight from Rome would do that to anyone, and the drunken business man in the seat next to her didn't help matters.
After watching Tv for a while, Delilah began to find herself restless andstill sore, despite her massages. Deciding it was time for a bath, she rolled off the couch and walked towards the bathroom, yawning, picking up her neatly made basket of shampoo, conditioner and soap from outside the door, where she always left it. She flicked on the light, took one look inside and screamed in surprise; "WHAT THE--?!"
The place was filthy. The shower curtain was a pale shade of brown, she could see black and dark brown grit in the tub, her mat was askew and the same shade of ugly brown, her sink, her mirror, her floor, her toilet were all filthy. Dropping her basket of hygenic tools, she put her hand to her chest as she caught her breath. It was just awful! She'd never leave her bathrom, the one place she left as sterile as a hospital, this messy! She hated it when tehre was a spot of saliva on the tap from brushing her teeth! It dawned on her suddenly. She would never leave her bathroom in the condition it was in...which meant...
There was someone here...
Grabbing the nearest thing off the floor, which so happened to be the neck of a broken Fender strat with starburst colouring, she started listening. Her head turned at the faint sound of light snoring, coming from her room (where else would it be?). Tip toeing slowly to her room, she found it only partway closed. Heart hammering in her chest, all sorta of possibilities ran through her mind. What if it's a squatter?, What if it's a meth lab and some junkie's watching it? What if it's WINKLEWOOD? She shivered at the last thought and swallowed her nervousness. Cautiously, Delilah pushed open the door with her foot, and stepped quickly into the room.
There, lying on the bed, was Aoyama Rem, in nothing but his boxers. Delilah paused a moment, blinking at the epiphany. Part of her was elated to see her boyfriend, but another part was genuinely confused. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" She shouted, dropping her guitar and leaning against the wall in relief. Thank God it wasn't Winklewood... She stil had nightmares about his social class.
