Dinner and Conversation for Two [Email Log, Apartment #4, Closed, Nanao and Hayate]

[lunar_gale]

[Backdated to Monday, March 27]



Hayate arrived at apartment #4 at 4:30pm with a black backpack slung over his left shoulder, a cane-style umbrella in his right hand, and a fresh daffodil in his left. He'd been lucky enough to avoid any of the other residents on his way down from the forth floor, and was feeling a bit better than he had been the previous week; and he was looking forward to the opportunity to meet Nanao. The few other residents he'd actually laid eyes on had not been enjoyable, but she seemed very pleasant.

Hanging the umbrella from the backpack strap, he knocked just loud enough to get her attention without drawing out the neighbors.

Nanao had been in a good mood since she had found out how well her paper had done, and it was obvious in the smile on her face. She’d stayed late at the café to help out, but her boss sent her home a while ago, just in time for her to grab a decent shower and get cleaned up before starting to get ready for dinner. It was an unusual occasion, having time and a reason to cook something from scratch, but she had always enjoyed cooking. It gave her time to think while her hands stayed busy.

At the moment, though, her brain was overly occupied with the song she was humming under her breath while her hands were busy cutting the small mushrooms she’d bought. The sauce for her dish was already simmering in a large pot on the stove, the wide, pale pasta beside it, slowly boiling.

She almost didn’t hear the knock over her own noise, but she was able to barely catch it. With a quick glance over to the small clock on the wall, she set the knife down and padded to the door, pushing a loose piece of hair back behind her ear in a completely normal gesture for her. She pushed the door open and peered out, then smiled slightly up at the visitor and gestured him inside.

“Well, good afternoon. I’m assuming you’re Hayate?”

"Good afternoon." He stepped inside and let her close the door before offering his empty right hand in a gentle handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person after talking online."

He stood the umbrella at the end of the counter and shifted his backpack off his shoulder. "I brought a bottle of red wine, but it can wait. This is for you." The daffodil was very fresh and much larger than any of the buds growing in the area. "I'd like to claim that I picked this, but it really isn't warm enough for them to open yet. Still, I thought you'd appreciate something seasonal..."

Nanao shook the proffered hand, one of the few useful things her father had taught her, then took the flower with a nod and a wider smile. “Thank you. It’s lovely. My second favorite flower… “ She trailed off a moment, glancing around for something to put the flower in, then spied a glass on the counter by the sink. She made a beeline for the pilsner that had caught her eye, turning her head just enough to look at Hayate. “Please, feel free to make yourself at home.”

Rarely unscorched fingers twisted the cool water tap, filling the tall glass a little more than halfway and sliding the stem of the daffodil into the clear liquid. She leaned her hip against the counter, her attention half on the various pots, the other of Hayate. “So… are you settling in alright?”

"Not badly at all, thanks...” He glanced around the room and smiled. She and her roommates had more furniture than he and Genma did, but there was still little to see. The bookshelf caught his eye and he quickly looked over the contents from a distance even as he retrieved the wine from his bag.

When he turned to set it on a free section of counter, he chuckled at her choice of 'vases'. It might be wise to be more prepared if he had the chance to have dinner here again. Following her eyes, he glanced at the stove. Things were obviously well under way, judging from the pots and the scent of the sauce. "I'm probably a bit late to help much, but is there anything you need help with? I may not cook, but cutting things should be safe enough if there's anything left."

He stepped just a bit closer to where she stood, trying not to invade her personal space. "...and if I may ask, what's your favorite flower?"

“That’s good… I was hoping so. I know it can be a little… odd around here.” She chuckled knowingly, as she’d been target of some of the oddness that surrounded the building. The large pot next to her bubbled heartily now, the sauce spreading a warm, rich smell around the room. Without thought, she grabbed the board she’d been cutting the mushrooms on and scraped them into the sauce, stirring them in, then reached down and snagged a large glass casserole dish from the bottom cabinet her leg was resting against.

“I think I’ve got it as long as I don’t burn myself. I have a bad habit of doing that…” The glass bottom of the dish clinked against the countertop as she set it down and started settling the lasagna flat along the bottom. She was so intent on what she was doing that it took a minute for her to register his question. She laughed at herself, then looked up at him. “Sunflowers. I’ve always liked them.”

“Next time I impose upon your kindness I’ll have to bring some aloe, as well… It’s an easy plant to care for, and it really helps with healing burns.” He crossed his arms, keeping his hands loose against his inner elbows, and watched her work. His mother had always prepared the family meals from scratch and he found that watching Nanao work was pacifying, as little had been since he’d moved in.

“Sunflowers… If I remember correctly they stand for adoration. When I was growing up in the suburbs, the lady next door grew a patch of them in her back yard. They were taller than I was, even in highschool, and sometimes the blooms were more than ten inches across…” Pausing in his reminiscence, he focused his eyes on what she was doing and exhaled an uncertain little laugh. “I’m sorry… sometimes I ramble. Don’t hesitate to stop me if I start going on like an old man.”

“Not at all. I enjoy good conversations. I don’t get many chances for it.” Her mornings were full of customers in various stages of wakefulness, and many of them were less than talkative. She didn’t speak to anyone on the bus often, because some of them were flat out strange, and in class, her mind was on her work. Her voice trailed off as she layered ingredients in the dish, focused, as usual, on what she was doing. After covering the top with a thick layer of cheese, she slid it into the oven and checked her watch, then cracked open one rickety cabinet door. Her hands found two glasses by memory, since the cabinet was a bit too tall for her to see into, and pulled them down to rest on the counter top.

“You seem well versed on flowers, Hayate… I’m curious to know how.”

“Oh, yes. My mother was interested in the Victorian era. She used to sew herself dresses and taught herself to write in Edwardian script… She and her friends used the ‘language of flowers’ between themselves quite often. I just picked some of it up. Not the manliest thing to know, I suppose, but I never quite fit the standard roles. Actually, that and my size were part of the reasoning behind the fencing.” He smiled ruefully and shook his head, focusing on his feet for just a moment.

“You usually have references from literature in your journals.” Shifting slightly to lean his elbow on the counter, he smiled and met her eyes. “I’ve always been prone to reading and research, myself. May I inquire of your interests?”

She met his gaze evenly, the slight smile still on her face. “For a long time, when I was younger, books were the only thing I was interested in. I’ve broadened my interests somewhat since then, but I’m still an avid reader, even if I complain about it in my journals. I just prefer reading for pleasure, not something I’ve been told to read.”

The smile turned a bit rueful. “My taste in books usually runs on the non-fiction side, but every now and then I pick up something different. Right now, it’s some fantasy novels a friend loaned to me. I need to return them soon, now that I think about it.” As she spoke, her hands had been busy with the bottle, twisting this way and that with a corkscrew, until she finally pulled the cork free. She immediately tipped some of the richly colored fluid into the closest glass, then filled the second.

Always one to be polite, she offered her guest a glass, then took the second one herself and gestured to the slightly larger area dominated by the couch. “It’ll be done in a little while, but I don’t think standing in a cramped kitchen is very comfortable.” She stepped around him and moved to sit on one side of the couch, one leg automatically rising to curl under her. A quick look down showed her current dog-eared book, The Duchess Diaries, almost resting against and under her knee. She carefully shoved it under the edge of the blanket that lay along the back of the couch, hoping her motion wasn’t too noticeable.

“I had no idea there was another bibliophile in the building. What do you prefer?”

He chuckled and nodded slightly when she pointed out the difference between pleasurable reading and assigned reading, accepted the glass of wine with a slightly lifted eyebrow, and languidly followed her to the couch. “I’m trying to cultivate the use of words like ‘cozy’ and ‘embracing’, actually, to avoid the notion of being cramped. My last apartment was a little bigger, but that was part of why I couldn’t really afford it…”

Placidly allowing the relocation of her book to go unspoken, he settled into the opposite side of the couch and took a sip of his wine. “Hmm. Well, since I was diagnosed with this illness, my only real physical pursuit has been fencing. I spend a lot of time sitting in a chair or lying in bed, so I spend that time reading and researching. I decided early on that I’d keep developing my mind since I had so little power over what happens to my body.”

“So…” He pulled one knee up onto the couch and turned to face her directly. “I read almost everything. I could be pretentious and list off Freud’s ‘Civilization and Its Discontents’ and Darwin’s ‘Origin of Species’, but they weren’t the books I’ve enjoyed most. Actually, right now I’m reading Neil Gaiman’s ‘Anansi Boys’ and before that was Terry Pratchett’s ‘Thud’. Guilty pleasures, I guess, but I just can’t be bothered to feel guilty.”

Each title caused her lips to quirk up a tiny bit more, her active mind filing them away. “I like them both. Fun to read. The last thing I finished was Good Omens, just before I started on Paradise Lost.” She pondered asking him about his illness, but she decided against it. If he wanted to share the information, he’d tell her about it.

“I’ve never been a very active person, but I did play soccer when I was younger. I wasn’t very good though.” The memory brought a fond smile to her face. “I get my exercise by walking now when I can.” Privately, she thought she was woefully out of shape, but that wasn’t something she worried much about.

“It sounds like you really enjoy fencing.”

“I have yet to read Good Omens, though I keep thinking I should, all things being as they are. Milton, on the other hand, I’ve read more than once. I particularly enjoyed the introduction of the demons, but Eve was a bit insulting, I thought. For that matter, Adam certainly didn’t reflect well on men in general… Then again, that’s the point, isn’t it?”

Having only been in the apartment building for a short time, he had yet to grow accustomed to the heat and dressing to cope with it. The air was stale, even though the scent of dinner cooking made it more agreeable than usual, and he pushed the sleeves of his plain black long-sleeved shirt up to his elbows. “Most days, this place reminds me more of Dante’s Inferno…”

Though he had been far more fit in his youth, he hadn’t let the pain stop him from keeping up with his fencing. He smiled when she accepted the subject without any sign of annoyance. “I was terrible in sports as a child… Fencing was the first active pursuit that came naturally to me, unless you include the kind of fights one has in reenactment circles. My father wanted me to have some way of taking care of myself and suggested karate… I was terrible. I kept it up for a few years but I felt like the others were cleaning the floor with me so I quit when I started college.”

Without a thought, she climbed to her feet and crossed over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles for a brief second, before pulling her copy of Good Omens down. She offered the book to Hayate with a smile, then turned and headed back to the kitchen, intent on checking on dinner. She wasn’t one to actively try and impress someone, but she DID believe in doing her best, especially when she had company. A quick glance in the oven showed her that the lasagna was close to being ready, so she dug though the cabinet and pulled out two plates, then found two forks that weren’t too bent up.

“Milton was the bane of my existence until recently. I was reading it for a paper. I tried to do Green Eggs and Ham, but it didn’t work out that way.”

Her family would’ve been scandalized if they knew she was serving a guest with less than adequate items, but she didn’t really mind. She didn’t think Hayate would mind, either. She was having a pleasant time talking to him. She carried the plates and forks to the table, hopefully making them semi-presentable, then returned to the kitchen, pulling out a loaf of bread. She hadn’t made any fresh bread today for her usual garlic bread, but she’d been busy.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him pushing his sleeves up. There was one window that still opened and closed willingly in the room, so she banged on the frame one time, then slid it up, taking a deep breath of the fresher air. “Better?”

“Mmm. Thanks.” Turning the book over in his hands, he ran his thumb along one of the slightly rounded corners. Books always felt rather intimate to him, due to his own love of them, and he was surprised that she would share one with someone she’d only recently met. When she spoke from the kitchen area he stopped staring at the book and looked up to see her gathering the dishes and flatware. After a momentary twist of his lips, he smiled broadly. “Green eggs and ham, eh? Actually, most of Seuss can be picked apart for psychological or sociological underpinnings. Some people consider him a terrible racist, you know…”

He pushed himself up from his place on the couch and moved toward the table with his hands folded behind his back. The windows in his apartment had a few… quirks… as well. Thankfully, the ones he needed seemed easier to open than these. “Much better, thanks.” He gestured. “The fact that they stick like that is not a good sign. Probably painted repeatedly with oil-based paint, which implies that this place might have a lead problem, too. Another cheery addition to the list of dangers around here. …Can we call that charm?”

Her hand moved to push her trademark glasses back into place as she turned to face him. “I adore Seuss. I wrote several papers on him in school, and if I remember correctly, I did quite well with them. Racist or not, he has one of the greatest quotes ever… “

Nanao straightened and took a breath, as if about to quote some long winded sonnet.

“Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them.”

She nodded to herself, agreeing silently with his sentiments, then chuckled under her breath, like a child caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. “I usually keep the windows open when I’m here… it helps to cut the heat.” Slim fingers flicked at a loose chip on the sill.

“This place is in serious need of fixing, but I’ve… grown used to it. I guess ‘charm’ might be an apt word for it. Charm is about all it has going for it.”

Hayate laughed at her presentation of the quote, smiling warmly. “I’m not sure if I should feel obsolete or try to act more childish. Then again, I reassert that this place reminds me at times of Dante’s Inferno, so it’s possible that I’m presently in hell, and don’t have to worry about being sent there.”

Dinner was obviously close to being ready, so he set his glass down by one of the mismatched settings and walked into the kitchen hoping again that he might be able to help to at least carry the lasagna to the table. “I think one of the strengths of humanity is that we’re infinitely adaptable. If we set our minds to enjoying where we are, it can eventually reach the point that we don’t have to try. Then again, I’ve never mastered the art…”

He stopped by her side, glancing meaningfully at the oven. “Is there anything I can do? You’ve been so kind, I feel incredibly lazy.”

“True, but being adaptable goes hand in hand with wanting more.” She pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it on top of the stove, then frowned as she glanced at the table. As usual, she’d forgotten something. She grabbed an old beat up potholder and held it out to Hayate. “Could you put this on the table for me? I can’t set this down on there without something under it…”

The table wasn’t in great shape, but it was the only one they had. They had to keep it up as best as possible.

“Mmm. Another excellent point. I suppose that explains why I haven’t mastered contentment just yet.” Once the potholder was on the table, he turned to watch her again. “Now, when I consider what this place has to offer, I can think of a bit more than just charm, though I agree it has at least a little of that. I think anything that’s managed to endure the years has a story to tell, and we can read a building just as we read books. I wonder who’s been here before and what their stories were, just as I wonder about the stories of those living here now. There’s such variety, all joined here by one need or another. It’s fascinating.”

For a few seconds, he seemed lost in thought; then it was his turn to stifle a guilty chuckle. “But, it probably sounds bad to treat my home like a sociology or anthropology study. Still, this would be an interesting case, if anyone was brave and stubborn enough to undertake it.”

She pondered his words as she carried the lasagna to the table, careful to set it down on the potholder. After a last look at the table to make sure everything was in place, she motioned him to a chair, then sat herself down. “I can’t even imagine the stories this place holds. I know everyone here has them… the ones I know are… interesting. I’d like to know more, but it’s not up to me… they have to be willing to tell them, and I know most won’t share.”

She ate a few bites in silence, then smiled over at Hayate. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, you know. You should do it.”

Hayate made a small choking sound, but managed to swallow properly. After a gulp of wine he laughed. “Well… I suppose I put my foot in it, didn’t I? A job seen is one delegated, eh? That was something my father often said when I was younger, though he’s let it go in the last ten years.” A few bites later, he paused to look directly at her face. “I haven’t really heard any stories yet… Not from their true sources. What little I’ve been told was second hand and I’ve decided to never trust such reports again, since they always seem mitigated by opinion and speculation.”

He leaned back as far as the chair would let him without tipping over or creaking too loudly. “This might be one of the moments that I reveal myself as a recluse and an obsessive researcher. My first inclination is to go to a library and look for books or reports on anything I can learn about this place. Crime reports, taxes, deaths… There should be a lot of written history linking to names and experiences. I could spend months sorting through it and following it to other information, just piecing together a puzzle that doesn’t even link to a single person currently living here.”

His fingers idly traced the pattern of the tabletop. “Or, I could just start with the present.” Tilting his head slightly to the side, he quirked a tiny smile. “Would you consider sharing your story? If not, consider the question hypothetical, but I am curious how a woman who obviously grew up with enough comfort to develop good manners, kindness, and a taste for education ended up living at 311 Lysgar Street.”

The fork paused between her lips. After a moment of careful chewing, she sat it down next to her plate and stood up to refill her glass. “My story isn’t as interesting as several of the others here, really. My father is a partner in a well known law firm in another city, so my family was quite… comfortable. I was an only child, so I was doted on, given everything I wanted. Mostly, all I wanted was to be left alone with my books. I studied,
and thrived at school.” She sat back down and leaned back in her own chair, the wood squeaking softly.

“I graduated top in my class and went on to college at 16, to study law, like my father. I sailed through, then went on to graduate studies. I was doing as I usually do, when I met someone.” She took as sip of her wine, pondering just how much to say. “I was always guided in my early years. I was taught the proper way of doing things. Dating was never something I was allowed to do. When I met him, I was,” she paused, laughing softly. “Swept away, I guess. I grew… lazy with my studies, began skipping classes to spend
time with him. After a while, I was failing everything and lost my scholarship.”

She ran the tip of an idle finger over the rim of her glass. Why was she sitting here, telling this to an almost complete stranger? No one knew the whole story, not even Gaara, and she’d told him more than most. The rational part of her brain told her to stop, but something else told her she could trust him with this.

After another sip of wine, she continued on, voice soft, but steady. “My father found out and I was withdrawn immediately. He didn’t want me sullying up the family name. I was left with few options. I had to leave, because I wasn’t wanted there. I had no experience in the world, other than what college gave me, and even then, I was sheltered. I had just enough left in my bank account to settle here and pick up a few things until I was able to
find a job.”

Nanao decided to hold some of the other things out, though… things that had happened since she’d been here. In fact, he hadn’t asked that, only how she’d gotten here. “You know… sharing is a two way thing.” She smiled over at him, mirroring his when he’d asked her.

“Fair enough.” He tapped a finger against the edge of his plate, focusing to keep himself from revealing any of the more undesirable habits he sometimes manifested when thinking. “Unfortunately, if your story isn’t interesting, mine is downright dull.”

The chair legs scraped a bit more loudly than he expected when he pushed back and shifted to a more comfortable position, almost sideways with his left ankle braced on his right knee. “I grew up in the suburbs just south of the city. My father worked in a plastics plant when I was a kid, making just enough to get us a few extras but not many perks. My mother did everything the old-fashioned way, partly because she loved the past more than the present and partly because it saved money. The money they both saved went into reenactment groups and gear mostly, though - as I said before - they paid for karate classes for several years and a decade of fencing.”

“I was always quiet in school, and I never really had any goals that would lead to distinctions, so I was toward the middle of my class and seventeen when I graduated, and I only went to college because I loved learning and I thought it was…” His voice trailed off. Suddenly, the boy he had been so long ago seemed foolish and wasteful. He shook his head and chuckled. “It was what everyone just did.”

“I hadn’t even picked a major when I started having problems. In the beginning it was little things, a sore leg or waking up to find that my hand didn’t work right. Things would go wrong, then recover in a week or two. I ignored it until it attacked my left arm and I felt like it was broken for almost a year.” Much to his surprise, he didn’t feel embarrassed telling Nanao about his illness. It wasn’t a topic he generally addressed, but with her, it seemed all right.

“By the time I knew for certain that I had compound auto-immune disorders, I’d spent enough time out of classes to fall behind. Ever since then, something seems to come up at least once a year and I can’t carry more than one or two classes a semester, so I’ve yet to graduate. I take time off too often, and there have been years that went so poorly I didn’t get anything finished toward a degree. So, I keep trying to finish up out of sheer stubbornness and I have a few regular jobs online as an editor and a critic.” He shrugged his shoulders, deciding that it was best to keep the story simple and just stop there. “It’s enough to get by.”

“Are you in treatment for your illness?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She frowned slightly at her own carelessness. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.” Her half empty plate suddenly looked very interesting. “Lately, I have a bad habit of speaking before thinking. I never did that in the past. It’s… troublesome at times.”

Her hand lifted the fork back to the plate, and resumed eating, eyes glancing up at Hayate, hoping he wasn’t upset with her. She was genuinely having a good time, talking with him, and she hoped he wouldn’t judge her too harshly by her lack of manners.

“It’s alright. Curiosity doesn’t bother me at all, since I have more than my own share.” Although the food was good, he didn’t think he could eat any more. He pulled a throat drop from his pocket and unwrapped it, hoping to keep the conversation uncluttered by coughing. So far, so good. “A few years ago it focused on my lungs and from then on I had no choice about regular treatment. I see a few specialists, but now and then it gets out of hand and I end up going to the hospital. Most of the time I can catch it before it needs radical treatment.”

The wine tasted absolutely horrible mixed with a throat drop, and he scowled slightly before he could control his expression. “Do you mind if I ask you a few unsubtle questions?”

Nanao set her fork down, eyes following the motion of her hand, then looked up at her guest. “I suppose not. Fair is fair, after all.” Her lips curved into a subtle smile. Her legs shifted back under her as she stood up, taking her plate back into the kitchen. She came back with a glass of ice water, as she had noticed his expression. Her mother had always taught her to be observant when it came to guests. After all, it made one a bad hostess when a guest was uncomfortable.

"Are you finished with that," she asked him, fingers tracing the rim of his plate.

“Yes, thanks again.” He lifted the plate toward her. In most circumstances, he would have insisted upon cleaning his own plate, but she’d been so intent on doing the work so far, and he’d already offered to help more than once. Instead, he carried the remaining lasagna back into the kitchen while she dealt with the dishes, then he found the towel and dried everything.

The Valerian was still in his backpack, so he fetched it and set it on the counter. “A little in tea in the evening, but you have to lie down and try to sleep or it won’t do anything more than just reduce anxiety and worries.” He returned to the table for his glass of water, the ice a bit melted by then, and wiped the condensation off with one hand before drinking a little.

“I can’t seem to find an acceptable way to ask this, but…” He turned to face her, keeping his posture open and relaxed. “It’s probably nothing you’d want to share with me, but is there anything specific that’s been worrying you so much that you’re having trouble sleeping? You don’t seem… happy. From what you said earlier it sounded like you’re separated from your family, and I wonder if you have any kind of emotional support.”

His father would have a few choice words about his rudeness if he could hear this. As it was, Hayate was reminding himself unpleasantly of his memories of his highschool guidance councilors. The nerves set off a tickle in his chest and he had to stifle a cough. “I’m fumbling at offering to listen whenever you need to talk. I don’t know how helpful I am, but I want to know that you’re okay.”

The questions took her by surprise, but she did her best to mask it. Unsubtle, indeed… “My brain has a habit of thinking too hard when I’m not occupying it. I’ve had several major changes in the last few months, and I assume I’m still becoming adjusted to them. I didn’t sleep well my first semester in college, after I moved to the dorms. It just… happens to me, sometimes.” The answer sounded practiced, almost clinical, even to her.

If he only knew how many offers she’d had; offers to listen. She liked most people, but she just couldn’t talk to them as easily as some could. She might just take him up on his offer, though; she had no idea yet, but she’d already told him more than most knew. She offered him a small, but honest smile. “I’m fine, really. There’s no need to be concerned.”

“Ah. Well, I can understand how an overactive mind can get in the way of rest…” Skepticism positively leaked from his tone, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. Whatever was bothering her, it was obvious that she wasn’t inclined to let it out right now. Also, as he worked through the subjects they’d discussed during his visit so far, he came to the realization that she was just as polite and internalizing as he was. He briefly considered what his own reaction would be if he was in her place.

“I won’t pry any further. You’ve been so kind and I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. I’d hate to do anything that would ruin my chances of doing this again some time.” It was growing darker outside, with spring sunlight not quite what it would be in a few more weeks, and he tried to keep close enough to the open window to breathe the cool evening air without crowding her. “I will warn you that my mind runs away with me, too. So, asking me not to concern myself with your well-being is sweet, but I’m still likely to worry. It sounds trite to say I’m here whenever you need to talk, but I mean it.”

The smile grew into an amused grin. “I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of being… sweet.” The thought almost made her laugh. She could tell he didn’t really believe her. She moved to lean against the far wall next to the open window, allowing him as much room as he needed. “You’re not prying. Not really… I’m just not the kind that talks about things that are out of my control, usually.” Her eyes slid down to rest on the tops of her shoes for a moment, then back up to her companion.

“I do appreciate the offer, Hayate. It’s… a very welcome one. I’ll make you a deal… if I can’t think something through on my own, I’ll talk to you about it… but only if you remember the offer goes both ways.”

“What if I adjust the deal just a little? If one of us can’t think through a subject productively, we talk to each other about it? We’re both self-sufficient and intelligent. Together there’ll be no stopping us. The world will be ours. Or something like that.”

He laughed, feeling much more at ease. Moving here had seemed such a bad idea in the beginning, but he was starting to think that some of the people would make it worth his while. And he still hadn’t seen any cockroaches. “I’d really like that. Well, not the world domination part, but the friendship.”

She stared at him for a long moment, weighing her thoughts, then bowed, showing a sliver of the true lady she was raised to be. When she gained her height, she wore the small grin again. “Deal… but I still plan on taking over the world. Or at least the roof. I’ll settle for that.” She leaned her head back against the wall, laughing softly. She felt a bit of the weight lift off of her shoulders, knowing that she had someone she could talk to.

Someone that would talk back.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a good thing.”

"Yes." He continued chuckling. "So... when should we take over the roof?"