(Untitled)

[floozyfacade]

The thing about the elevator in the Compound is that Olive can't think of any earthly reason it should be there. Granted, this isn't, she's fairly certain, any version of earth she's familiar with, so reasons of that nature don't actually apply, but, in spite of knowing there's very little use in it, she continues looking for some measure of logic

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[phoinikothrix]

Francis has never been able to understand the concept of laundry--at least, not when it comes to doing it oneself. However, in the absence of any proper dry cleaners or laundress, there are some sacrifices to be made.

At the ding of the elevator, he turns away from puzzling at the washer, breaking into a smile when he recognizes the girl inside. "Hello, Olive. Why on earth would you want music in an elevator?"

[floozyfacade]

"Oh, I don't," Olive says, bending down to retrieve her basket and heading on into the room as though that had been her intention all along. It's the smart thing to do, anyway, given that she may as well give the box a look while she waits, and Francis makes for welcome company. "Trust me, I don't. I meant the music in elevators, you know, it's usually, it's bad, it's just awful like ninety percent of the time. And this one doesn't have any. I'm surprised they missed an opportunity to make us a little crazier."

[phoinikothrix]

"Shush," Francis replies, his voice hushed and mock-conspiratorial. "You don't want to give it ideas, do you?" He barks a short laugh and drops a sly wink at the girl, before turning back to the washer.

"You know," he confesses, loading more clothes into the machine's gaping maw, "with an infinite amount of clothes available in that box, it's rather hilarious anyone here does laundry at all."

[floozyfacade]

"Isn't it?" Olive drops her basket (an awkward, makeshift thing, but still better than loading up pillowcases or whatever every time she has to do a couple loads) onto one of the tables. "But therein lies the reason - we could forego laundry altogether and just have a vast pile of dirty clothes lying around if we wanted to, but think of all the horrible things we'd have to wear in exchange. I don't know, I think the extra effort's worth it not to spend my days in spandex and sparkles."

[phoinikothrix]

"What a terrifying point you make," he replies, smirking. "There are definitely bonuses to not having a wardrobe made entirely of sequins and stretchy neon-colored clothing."

[floozyfacade]

"Terrifying points, my stock in trade." Olive considers the box and then thinks better of it, pulling herself up to perch on the table in turn, thankful it's sturdy. "And I see you're up to the same thing, Francis. You see, the sacrifices we make to be even moderately well-dressed."

[phoinikothrix]

"Indeed," he concedes with a wry grin. After adding a capful of detergent--"Ocean Breeze"? Isn't there enough ocean about without the laundry room adding its own contribution?--and starting the washer, Francis moves to sit near Olive at the table.

"It is a learning experience," he admits, flushing slightly with embarrassment. "I never did laundry at home. Of course, with no dry cleaners here to speak of..." He trails off with a shrug. "I'm frankly surprised I haven't blown the thing up yet."

[floozyfacade]

Olive gives a little gasp, reaching out to smack lightly at his arm. "Did you teach yourself and everything?" she teases. "I'm actually impressed you haven't, these things can be fussy." She knew plenty of people back home who didn't do their own laundry, whose parents always took care of it or, for some of the kids, their maids (OJai isn't Beverly Hills by a long shot, but the rich of California seem to gravitate toward the hills. She's never really understood it). It's not really surprising. "You get the hang of it eventually. And when it doubt, cold wash."

[phoinikothrix]

"I did," he replies, answering Olive's mocking tone with one of his own. "And only one ruined tie to show for it, even. I'm expecting a medal and a parade any day now."

[floozyfacade]

"I'll find a gong and some confetti," Olive says, waving her hands wide before they land, plop, in her lap. "Rig a few floats. That is a masterful achievement. No, really, when I started, I'm pretty sure everything I own would have ended up, like, tie-dyed if my mom hadn't been showing me what to do." It's really only a matter of self-sufficiency, after all, and of everyone pulling their weight in some way or another, when it comes to her family; of course, that's never kept Kale from coming back most weekends with piles of it, but that's mostly because he doesn't have to feed their washer and dryer all his quarters.