Spa day [RP, Abby and Robin]
The doorbell rang, for the second time.
"Mmmf. A little bloody patience," Robin muttered into his pillow, except it was more like Mmmf, ma mmffhh mmuhmfy mhhmnns.
He lifted his head, with effort, and regarded the wall blearily before levering the rest of his body after his head. Doorbell. Someone at the door. Very well.
The bed he got out of was white-- big white comforter, Arctic white sheets, glass-and-chrome-fixtures-- and the carpet his toes found was a similarly glacial white... Very well, that meant he was definitely in New York. The bed in London was all dark old gorgeous wood and dark sheets, and Los Angeles... well, he couldn't remember just what color it was, but certainly never anything as minimalistic as white.
These little color cues were useful, after some of his nights. Like last night. Couldn't clearly recall most of it. Quick check of the bed-- empty besides himself, shame-- and then himself-- naked. Right, then.
He snagged a bathrobe on the way out the bedroom, belted it around himself as he crossed the living room's luxurious carpet, not sparing a glance for the vista of New York outside the penthouse's windows, and eventually made it to the door. Quick glance at the little LCD screen next to the door (peepholes were so old-fashioned) which gave him a shot of a very impatient Abby Lockhart.
Hmmm.
Robin squinted, scratched at his head, then swung the door open before she could kick it.
"Abby! Come in! You look lovely, it's marvelous to see you, what an unexpected delight--"
Her expression shifted from Yeah yeah bullshit to Excuse me? and he paused. "--or not so unexpected? Ah. Did we plan to meet today? I think we did? Yes? No? Maybe so?"
"Mmmf. A little bloody patience," Robin muttered into his pillow, except it was more like Mmmf, ma mmffhh mmuhmfy mhhmnns.
He lifted his head, with effort, and regarded the wall blearily before levering the rest of his body after his head. Doorbell. Someone at the door. Very well.
The bed he got out of was white-- big white comforter, Arctic white sheets, glass-and-chrome-fixtures-- and the carpet his toes found was a similarly glacial white... Very well, that meant he was definitely in New York. The bed in London was all dark old gorgeous wood and dark sheets, and Los Angeles... well, he couldn't remember just what color it was, but certainly never anything as minimalistic as white.
These little color cues were useful, after some of his nights. Like last night. Couldn't clearly recall most of it. Quick check of the bed-- empty besides himself, shame-- and then himself-- naked. Right, then.
He snagged a bathrobe on the way out the bedroom, belted it around himself as he crossed the living room's luxurious carpet, not sparing a glance for the vista of New York outside the penthouse's windows, and eventually made it to the door. Quick glance at the little LCD screen next to the door (peepholes were so old-fashioned) which gave him a shot of a very impatient Abby Lockhart.
Hmmm.
Robin squinted, scratched at his head, then swung the door open before she could kick it.
"Abby! Come in! You look lovely, it's marvelous to see you, what an unexpected delight--"
Her expression shifted from Yeah yeah bullshit to Excuse me? and he paused. "--or not so unexpected? Ah. Did we plan to meet today? I think we did? Yes? No? Maybe so?"