[Beware world, for Demyx has discovered a CD player in his closet.
And I hope you ninth floor residents (or the poor sod with the drippy ceiling directly below room 009) don't mind your Tuesday tea time interrupted by Demyx's idea of a mid-afternoon soak.
And by 'soak', we mean Bobby Darin blasting out of the speakers at max volume.]
♫ Splish splish
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Uh.
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Until there's a keybearer in his doorway, and then he skids a stop and sort of just...stands there, in his towel, with his jaw gone slack.
Bobby Darin continues to list "the whole gang".
Demyx lets the scrub brush fall limply to his side.]
Uhhhhh...is there...a problem?
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You... Uh... What...
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[Demyx continues to stare right back, until he thinks to reach over and shut off the music.
Great. Now there's awkward silence.]
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Having fun?
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[Drip. Drip.]
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