Oct 02, 2005 11:54
The baby has been fed. And changed. And bounced and sung to and amused.
The baby is now asleep. And Faith does not have proper bebe-accomadations in her flat.
Which is why, reluctantly, she's knocking on Michael's door, very quietly.
If nobody answers, she'll make a baby bed out of a dresser drawer.
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Michael didn't bother with a shirt, though.
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Beat.
"Nice pecs."
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"Aren't they? Hi, Faith."
Maria appears in the doorway, grinning sleepily and wearing little more than a strategic sheet.
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Faith looks decidedly sheepish.
"I'm sorry. Hi, Maria."
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"Sure. Did it work?"
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"We watched a bad movie, met some new people, freaked out some friends who thought he might be mine, had dinner, got changed, and then he fell asleep. Big night for bebe, I guess."
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Michael steps forward to take him, since Maria can't without risking dropping her sheet.
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"He's showing some pretty impressive musical aptitude. Smacked the piano in perfect pitch. Obviously a prodigy."
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Faith gets Schmoopyface for a second, then shakes it off.
"Anyway, I won't keep you up...next time you need a sitter, you know where I am."
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"I'd keep that one if I was you," she says, quietly. "They really are nice pecs."
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